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amaranthineghost · 1 year ago

Note

hello!!!

can you do a one shot/ fanfic that Lando has been dating Y/N since they were 15/16, so for a long time, and she just found out she’s pregnant. you can come up with how they would react and how lando would react but i’d love if they were unsure of it in the beginning, but it grew on them as time went by.

thanks!!!!

| OUR WORLD IN YOUR HANDS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando x reader

ꕥ summary: they hadn't planned for pregnancy, but it changed their life.

ꕥ authors note: enjoyed writing it more than I thought I would honestly. tried to make it so she was more unsure than he was and in the end, I liked it. working on incorporating more dialogue in the future because it is definitely not my strong suit. I'll also alternate between requests and my own ideas so if you requested something, keep it in mind <3

ꕥ warnings: mentions of alcohol, sex, barely mentions thoughts of abortion

TWO RED LINES. her heart had skipped a beat, more like several as she stared at the dark red line and a faded pink one next to it. she couldn't believe her eyes. it couldn't be possible, it repeated in her mind.

but it obviously was. they hadn't been very careful, they're young and dumb and in love. two people so deeply in love that they couldn't care less. at least she thought they did at the time.

staring at the test in front of her shook her whole world, an entirely different branch of her life she'd never expect to take this soon. it was right in front of her.

despite being together for a year or two shy of a decade, it felt too soon. they were still young, had plenty of parties lined up in the near future. plenty of drunken nights running through the streets of monaco barefooted, hands intertwined as the world was focused on them. how they'd escape to the farthest rooftop, drunken makeouts leading to more as they came together under the stars.

they still had time. time to be what they'd missed as teenagers, to make memories. they had time to spend countless nights, wrapped in each other's arms under cold skies on balconies across countries, discussing their future. when they'd get married, where they'd like to live, if they ever left monaco which seemed unlikely, the places they've yet to see, how many kids they'll have and their names.

time for reckless driving through the streets of monaco with the wind crashing against them, hands raised as they cheered. he always drove to the most beautiful sight in the city, but always claimed it would never come close to the beauty she possessed.

time for runs across the beach in tiny bikinis and swim trunks as they raced on the sand. his arms capturing her waist as he tossed her around, feeling the vibrations of her laughter and screams against his skin. a feeling he'd forever cherish.

it all disappeared with a single faded line. everything she knew about their future collapsed with the test barely bigger than the length of her hand. it would affect everything.

it was conflicting. becoming a mother was all she ever dreamed and talked about, when she became older. she'd mention to her curly-haired boyfriend countless times of her dreams of having the mini versions of him running around the house they shared. the longing to see his eyes and curly hair with features of her own on another warm body. their child.

but she wasn't ready. in her mid-twenties, with years of life left to live child-free. tens of grand prix's to attend in support of her mclaren lover, watching 10 feet away from his car. nights to catch up on hours of sleep she lacked from keeping up with lando's lifestyle.

having a kid swept it all off the table. no more late night dalliances, or getting so drunk to the point where lando would have to pull over the car to hold back her hair as she threw up in the bushes.

no more parties at ungodly hours of the night, watching drunk lando stumble his way to the dj booth, giggling over a glass of alcohol at his actions.

no more sleep. she knew she'd be woken up numerous times in the night from the cries of her child, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to give up sleep yet.

and she wasn't sure lando wanted to give up formula one either. obviously, a balance between the two worlds is possible, but she knew he would want to be there with her, and she didn't know if he could.

it scared her. the thought of this changing the dynamic of their relationship on levels she couldn't even begin to think of. she's seen countless videos of how having a child completely changed the way couples worked, good and bad, and she didn't want that fifty-fifty.

she'd sat staring at the test between the tips of her fingers for a solid twenty minutes before she heard a patterned knock she grew familiar with from her beloved boyfriend.

the door muffled his voice just slightly, "darling, you 'right in there?" his hand wrapped around the now cold door handle and twisted it, but it failed to turn as it pressed into his palm.

it was unusual for her to lock the door, she knew he would question it. and she knew she couldn't use the excuse of that she's changing or showering because lando simply didn't care whenever she was. he'd sit and keep her company till she was done with whatever she was doing because it was often what they did. sit in silence, enjoying the presence of one another.

"yeah, I'm fine!" she called out to him in a rushed tone, flinching enough that she nearly dropped the test. she watched as the door knob shook, shoving the stick into the bottom of the trash temporarily. she'd remember to remove it eventually.

she turned on the sink as she hid the box of tests in the depths of the cabinet under the sink. looking at herself in the mirror, she'd wipe away the tears that built in her eyes. she didn't want him to notice, but like always he would.

from the locked door to the second she opened it, he'd watch it. she'd see him leaning on the wall just outside the door, patiently waiting for her to come out to him. he wouldn't question it, he trusted that she would eventually come around to tell him. she always did.

with the frequent trips to the bathroom and the slimmed selection of foods in the fridge, he'd suspect something, but he wouldn't know for sure. not without her word.

because for the time being, it was a secret she kept to herself, as much as she despised secrets. she felt like she was guilty to be hiding something from the person she trusted most in the world.

times when she thought the room was empty, she'd be pacing long ways back and forth with her arms crossed and her face solid. he'd watched her from the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest, mirroring her position slightly.

times when she'd drop whatever she was doing to rush into the bathroom and spill her guts into the toilet as he held her hair and ran his fingers along the nape of her neck. she claimed it was a stomach bug, but he knew better. he also knew better than to question her words so he said nothing, but made a multitude of soups for her to sip on, taking notice of her now acute taste.

times when she'd cry over the tiniest of things, comforting her in his arms while she sobbed against the fabric of his very worn hoodie that happened to be her favorite.

it wasn't a great shock when she first told him. stuttering over her words as she fumbled with the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt that went well past her fingertips, he could see tears brimming her eyes with her heightened sensitivity.

so when she muttered the words, "i'm pregnant," his world stopped, restarted, reloaded and stopped again when he finally processed the words. though he knew he could've expected it, hearing the confirmation leave her lips left his world tipped sideways.

but he wanted to hear it again, needed to, words breathlessly escaping his lips, "what, love?" he heard her the first time, but he wanted to hear it again. and again and again.

she choked on her words, sobbing out again, "I'm pregnant, lan," he pulled her into his chest, his hand finding it's way to the side of her head as he cradled her, pressing his lips against her hair.

as they swayed, it finally dawned on him, muttering unsure and excitedly against her head, "I'm going to be a dad?" his breathing deepened, his tongue gliding across his lips, then biting at the sensitive flesh. he felt his heart hammer in his chest, nearly comparing to when he first asked the girl out all those years ago. he reminisced the time when the biggest deal he could think of was rejection. now the girl he had crushed on when he was just a teenager just told him she's pregnant. with his kid.

part of him couldn't be happier, they had spent countless nights in bed, lying on their sides facing one another with stupid grins on their faces as they pondered their future together. whatever they wanted, it always had the other in their thoughts and plans.

this was just their plans manifesting faster than they might've hoped, and sure, he wasn't totally certain that it was the right timing after all. but this was their dream, and maybe they just needed time.

time to accept how greatly their life would be affected. he thought about how he'd have to leave her for days, weeks for his career, the few outlying times when she'd travel with him. he knew that would change, leaving her home with a new life to take care of besides her own. he hated the thought of leaving her.

they needed time to think, whether it was together or just by themselves. they needed to figure out how they'd make it through, if they could. which was a question in itself.

they needed to talk because part of her didn't think he would be so accepting of the change life threw them, permanently altering their course of life and the years to follow.

deep inside, they're scared. they knew they would've been, planned or not. it didn't make it any easier. but when he asked such a simple question, it lifted a massive weight that had been carrying on her shoulders. part of her knew he'd always be so accepting. everything is an experience after all.

with every month passed, every growth of the life within her body, he'd mention. he was the nerdy type to compare the size of the baby with fruit. he'd goggle each week with every new development she'd create. it shook his mind to even comprehend. she could make bones, organs and the tiniest lashes of their soon-to-be kid all within the confines of her body. to him, it was sacred.

and of course, he'd tell just about everyone from every team. all the drivers, mechanics, pit crew, team principals, the list goes on and so does his rants about her.

countless photos of appreciation for her on his social media, after all she was carrying his child and he was ecstatic. he'd spent every waking moment he could with her, his hands always somewhere on her, prodominantly on her growing stomach.

when he felt the first kick, he pulled his hand away sharply, looking at her with a dropped jaw and wide eyes, "it kicked me!" he'd exclaim and she slapped his shoulder, scolding him.

"don't call the baby an 'it!'"

"what else am I supposed to call it?" again, earning another slap to his bicep, and he'd look at her with a growing confused look.

"stop slapping me!" he held up his arms in defense as she scowled at him, her arms crossed over her chest. she pursed her lips before sighing as he'd replace his hand on her stomach.

"babe, I don't think this baby likes me," he looked between his hand and her eyes, feeling the movement under his palm. it was a weird sensation, something he'd never expect to feel so soon, or at all.

all she could do was laugh at the stupid expression across his face as he looked back and forth in bewilderment. the warmth from his hand, and the small calluses sent goosebumps across her skin. it incited a smirk to take place on his face, but she slapped it off. he'd expect to feel more of those as the months went by, especially with all the sly comments she'd hear slip past his lips.

with every ultrasound appointment, he'd be there. he'd make sure of it, no matter where he was or what he was doing. she also scheduled them in accordance to his race and where in the world it took place.

every time, his eyes would be locked on the screen that projected his child, a part of him in another life form. a smile always creeping into his face as he held her cold hand. more often than not, he'd get curious and try to become the technician, stealing the equipment out of the professional's hand. his girlfriend would scold him like he was some sort of dog. in response he'd groan, rolling his eyes at her.

he'd still try though, and the technician laughed it off. he'd make comments to her in reassurance, "babe, i've got this," he'd tell him as his hand with the wand came closer to her stomach.

"where's your degree then?" she snapped back, giggling at his sudden pause before he shrugged, waving it off his other hand.

" 's at home."

when the time finally came to birth their new life into the world, god did lando panic. everything he had prepared himself with went out the window when she'd mutter the words he'd been waiting to hear.

"lando," she mumbled as she sat on their couch, turning to him with wide eyes, "I think it's time." her sleeve-covered hands were at her face as she bit nervously on her nails.

he'd stutter over his words, hands in his hair, "you're joking." he'd say repeatedly as he rushed around the apartment, grabbing things. he was the type to grab everything and forget her still on the couch.

she'd call him on her phone when she sees him in his car from the window, through the pain, she laughed at him, "forget something, norris?"

"no, darling, I've got everything-" she'd see his movement pause, his hand returning to his hair, "fuck!"

when he'd come back to help her, she was nearly collapsed with laughter despite the pain she felt through her body.

"stop laughing at me!" he whined but he was laughing with her. nonetheless, they'd get to the car.

she was in labor for hours, crunching on ice chips that he'd fed her carefully. he'd massage her shoulders, hold her hand when contractions got particularly unbearable. he knew not to mumble bullshit words of encouragement, a word of advice from his mum, advice he'd gladly listen to.

instead he'd show her he was there by doing everything she asked until it was time to actually deliver their child they've been waiting 9 months to finally meet.

with a pale face, lando would comment, "I think one kid is fine after all." she'd roll her eyes at his words as she held their daughter in her arms, already seeing themselves in her. she was exhausted and he knew. he put her hair up, cooing words of appreciation to her now that all was done. he took care of her.

he'd remember call his mum later to tell her thank you.

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heartlilith · 5 months ago

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Astrology Observations

PART 6

Mercury/Gemini/Virgo/Chart Ruler in the 6th house natives have a telepathic connection to their pets

Water mercuries/water signs in the 3rd house have the perfect ASMR voices, so soothing

Saturn shows where you'll experience your karma, both good and bad. It also shows where others will experience their karma if they wrong you, for example. 1st house = your perception of the world, your looks. 2nd house = your finances, self worth. 5th house = your ability to have fun/date, your creativity, your kids. 7th house = your business partners, your lovers. 10th house = your career, public image.

The house your Pluto is in shows the themes that will be forever changing throughout your life.

Aries Mercury/Mars in the 3rd house always cuts people off when their talking (lol same) they're so impatient in communicating and hate when people beat around the bush

Your ASC sign + ASC persona chart ASC can tell you a lot more about how people see you. For me, I have natal Capricorn rising and my ASC PC has Aries rising = hardworking, moves fast, impatient, wants to finish projects in one sitting, bitchy, can be very harsh

^Example = Natal Libra Rising with ASC PC Scorpio rising, could make the Libra rising more secretive, creative, more attractive and alluring, can make a native more manipulative, "pretty privilege"

^Example = Natal Taurus Rising, ASC PC Sagittarius Rising - Can have a voluptuous body, more carefree, loves to travel and try new things, probably cooks great food from different cultures, extremely chill and laid back

5th house ruler in the 8th house loves to do taboo things on their free time (astrology, learning psychology, reading self help books, watching true crime docs)

5th house ruler in the 2nd house loves to go shopping and experiment with their style on their free time, loves design and probably rearranges their space a lot lol

5th house ruler in the 3rd house loves to read and write on their free time and talk to their friends on the phone. Loves to go for drives and try new spots that have opened up in their town

Fire signs in the 12th house dream a lot. They're more inclined to have "action" dreams.

4th house sign can give insight on the best way to emotionally nurture yourself, since it rules the mother. Fire signs = exercise, moving around, exploring, trying a physical hobby (rollerskating, a sport, yoga). Water signs = taking a shower, swimming, going to the beach, allowing your emotions to flow, art. Earth signs = spending time in nature obviously, walking around the yard barefoot, gardening, getting in touch with nature somehow. Air signs = talking to friends about stress, journaling, collaging, reading books, therapy

Check out my July Reading Specials

#astrology observations #astrology #natal chart #birth chart #astrology chart notes #astro #astro community #astrology community #astro observations #rising signs

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httpknjoon · 6 months ago

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a summer fashion choice | jjk

plot | This summer heat got you and your friends to enjoy your day at Blaire's beach house in the ocean. While everyone suits in their swimwear, your friends wonder why Jungkook your secret boyfriend is wearing a high-neck shirt.

words | 2.7k+

genres | fluff, crack, secret relationship au, established relationship au, friends to lovers au

pairing | jungkook x reader

note | they are just getting sloppier and sloppier atp 🥴 anyway, enjoy reading!! let me know ur thoughts 🫶

main masterlist | drabble series masterlist

“Look at him, all focused on his laptop and work.”

Jenny rested her elbows on the white sand while turning her head to the beach house. Specifically on its porch, where your secret boyfriend types eagerly on his keyboard while answering a call through his Airpod. His eyes were focused on his screen and you swore you could see the gears in his head turning at a rapid pace. You thought he could enjoy this weekend but he got a call after you had breakfast with everyone this morning. You sighed, shaking your head.

“I heard he is working for a possible promotion.”

“Yeah, but we are on vacation right now,” Dara replied while putting on some sunscreen on her arms.

Your two friends shifted their conversation to other things. But your gaze remained on Jungkook. You watch Blaire approach him after his call, softly patting his back. She points out to the ocean while talking to him. Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head. Blaire walked away, also shaking her head with a smile. Even though she wore dark aviator sunglasses that matched her lace cover-up, you felt like she was looking at you. You confirmed it when she sat beside you.

“That guy cannot stop working after we had breakfast. Next time that I’m bringing you all here at the beach house, I am confiscating your gadgets,” she spoke out.

“Geez! Mom, relax.” Jenny exhaled exaggeratedly like a teenager, making you and Dara giggle. “You should check on your other kid though.”

She pulled down her sunglasses and pointed her finger to the other side of the beach. Wooshik, whose body is buried underneath a large amount of sand, has been shooing Bam away, who is licking his face.

“Who the hell spread peanut butter on his face?!” Blaire laughed.

Dara raised her hand, “It was my idea. But we all smeared it on his face.”

You nodded, remembering that you were also the one who called Bam to first smell your friend’s face. The sand was too heavy on his body that Wooshik could not even raise his hand to push Bam away. By the time he was able to get off the sand, his face was already shiny clean with your dog’s drool.

“Hey!”

You all stood up to run when Wooshik threw sand directed at your area. Bam ran behind you and your friends, laughing and playing on the seashore. You don’t know who ran towards the ocean first but you, Blaire, Dara, and Jenny worked all together to splash water against Wooshik. It did not last long as your arms got tired and you asked for a truce.

“Oh, no. Bam, baby, stay there!”

You quickly ran from the salt water when you noticed your dog running in your direction. Thankfully, you met him halfway, just when he was about to take a step into the waters. That was when you decided to sit with him on the sand. You two watched your friends playing in the water. You were smiling until you remembered your boyfriend who was wasting this day with his laptop. That’s when you pick up your sheer white wrap skirt and tie it around your hips. You also attached Bam’s leash to him again, just to make sure he won’t run away from you.

“Let’s go, Bam.”

Barefoot, you strolled on the warm sand on your way. Even though it was close to the afternoon, you still find the heat endurable to enjoy the beach.

“Hey…” you softly smiled at him.

“Hey.” he was typing on his laptop when he responded.

You pulled one of the vacant seats around the small table and sat on it. You noticed a little thick compilation of papers on the table. You wondered if he planned to do his job here today since he had all of these back in his car.

“Babe…” you called him with a careful tone.

He threw a short glance at you before reading something on the paper, “Yes, princess?”

“You know that today is Saturday, right?” you told him while Bam sniffed your resting hand.

“Yes. But I forgot that I was supposed to do this last night and I didn’t because we drove here.” he reasoned. “And I need to pass this–”

“When is the deadline?” you cut him off, knowing that he is just doing this all for a reason.

“It’s…” he paused, looking back at you while biting his inner cheek. He knows that you know why he was doing this. So, he cannot tell lies even if he wants to. “It’s two weeks from now.”

You leaned back in the chair while crossing your arms, “You know what I am going to say, right?”

He nods his head, “But they will announce the promotion soon and if I pass this report earlier than others, I might–”

“You might end up really tired and overworked.” you cut him off again. This time, sounding more serious. “You have a deadline for a reason. Plus, we came here to enjoy this weekend. You still have time to do that when we get back to the city.”

“But I want to pass this report as soon as possible.” he firmly said, undeterred.

“Okay, whatever you say.” You gave up, getting up.

The moment you said that Jungkook instantly felt the shift in the air. Your back is already turned to him as you walk back to the house. His chest tightened and it’s like something is stuck in his throat. Before he can even call your name again to talk, Bam barked next to him. As if he knows his dad did something wrong.

Might as well go read a book or watch something, you thought.

Admittedly, you were annoyed that Jungkook is firm about doing that report here, especially when he said that it’s still due in the next week. Usually, you understand him being this workaholic since he has been aiming for that promotion. But it’s not like you will get to go here again next weekend.

You searched around the room for that book you brought with you. Under the bed, under the sheets, and even your luggage. Surely, you brought it with you. You remembered reading it before Jungkook sneaked into your room last night. While looking on the bed again, you heard a couple of knocks on your door.

Busy, you only said, “It’s unlocked.”

That’s when Jungkook steps into your room. He noticed your scrunched eyebrows when you looked at him after looking under a pillow. His heartbeats fastened as he slowly closed the door behind him. You were busy searching for something and he was about to ask but then your expression changed after looking under the other pillow. Finally, you looked at him, holding the book to your chest.

“Where’s Bam?”

“I left him with Blaire. She took him with her on the sand.” Jungkook took a step closer.

You acted naive, walking to the other side of the room where your luggage was left open. You began cleaning up the mess you made while looking for the book.

“Are you done with your report?” you asked without even looking at him.

“No.”

You didn’t say anything and neither did he. So after zipping up your stuff, you have already decided to leave and read outside. But you wanted to freshen up first. You looked at yourself in front of the mirror, ignoring your boyfriend who sat quietly on the bed but obviously watching you. You meet his eyes through the mirror.

“Then, what are you still doing here, Jungkook?”

No babe? Or even Kook? Jungkook frowned, getting up behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Princess…” his tone was pleading. “I’m sorry.”

With how close his warm breath on your ear, it sends shivers all over your body. You wonder how did the temperature get high gradually, almost matching the heat outside. You tried to keep your composure, not breaking any expression on your face while you asked him again.

“For what?”

Gently, Jungkook turns you around to directly face him. His hands were still on your waist and the space between you two was almost nonexistent. You looked straight into his eyes while clenching your jaw.

“I’m sorry that I’m working during the weekends and I pissed you off when you just want me to enjoy this day,” he said, almost a whisper.

At that point, you already lost yourself. Your gaze went from his eyes down to his lips when he began speaking. After you realized what were you doing, you looked at him.

“I’ll accept that apology if you tell me you won’t be doing any work for the rest of our time here.”

He raised his left hand and stood like a true follower, “I promise that I will not do any reports while we’re here.”

Jungkook waited for you to say something but you simply ran your hands through his hair. You softly massage his scalp with your fingertips just like what you usually do when you know he’s tired or when you two shower together. You figured he was enjoying your thing when his eyes closed as his hold on your waist tightened. Your eyebrow raised before tugging on his hair, causing Jungkook to groan.

“Just… enjoy,” you mumbled.

Jungkook nods, slowly opening his eyes, and the first thing he sees is that little smirk on your lips. He smiled while wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You were the first one to lean in and make your lips meet. But as you were about to pull away, Jungkook held you firmer, deepening the kiss. You once again tugged on his hair. He responded with a soft moan. The kiss became more passionate. You two moved in sync, moving closer to the bed, without breaking the kiss. You straddle him. The next thing you know, your lips were tracing kisses on his jawline down to his neck. Lost in the moment, Jungkook tilts his head back. You move your hips slightly, earning another groan from him.

“Everyone��s outside?” you asked in between kisses.

“Mhm…” he hummed “Princess…”

You mindlessly began sucking the skin just below his jawline. He gasped, his hand squeezing your thigh gently. You did it a couple of times more before you pulled away and were about to reach and untie your top from the back when you noticed the dark bruise forming on his neck.

“Oh, shit,” you murmured.

Jungkook opened his eyes, “Why?”

You look at him with a look of guilt on your face. You were trying not to smile, pursing your lips. He tried to stop you from getting up from him but you pulled him to the mirror.

“What– Fuck.” Jungkook cursed while tracing the hickeys you left on his neck. “That’s a lot, Princess.”

You were trying so hard not to laugh, “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook was about to speak when you heard knocks on your door. Your eyes widened.

“Come out, lovebirds. We’re having barbecues outside for lunch.” Blaire spoke.

You and your boyfriend looked at each other, silently asking each other what to do with the obvious bruises on his neck.

“Tell me, why the fuck is your boyfriend wearing a turtleneck in this burning weather?”

After having lunch, you and your friends went back to the beach to play volleyball. You take turns cooking the remaining barbecues and playing. You and Blaire were sitting on the side when she asked you that question. Her tone was not even asking, just genuinely curious and you understand. Because it is really weird why someone would wear a turtleneck shirt on the beach. Worse, it’s not even the swimwear type. It’s cotton material.

Unfortunately, that’s the only remedy you and Jungkook can think of earlier. You cannot really think of any answer so you were relieved when Dara sat next to you guys. You tapped Blaire, asking her to keep her lips sealed.

“I hate playing with those competitive players,” Dara said, referring to Jenny, Wooshik, and Jungkook.

You and Blaire laughed, offering her a drink instead. Jenny was playing alone against the two guys. Her competitive nature naturally takes on every time the ball is served to her side. You and the others just cheered for her on the side, chanting her name. You all cheered louder when Jenny got another win.

“See? I told you, you can’t move properly with that shirt.” Wooshik grunted at his best friend.

Jungkook fought back, “I am literally the MVP of this team. Four out of five points came from me.”

You laughed at their immatureness whenever they were together. Jenny asked for time out and you gave her a glass of iced tea. The guys followed, getting their barbecue and drink.

“Why are you even wearing that? We’re on a beach.” Dara asked.

Jungkook took a glance at you before replying, “I… I got bad insect bites.”

Wooshik, who quietly caught that, asked, “Where? On your neck?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Oh, I brought a cream for that!” Dara began searching through her beach bag. “Here!”

Jungkook awkwardly accepted the small tube Dara handed him, “Thanks.”

“You should put it now. It relieves the bite almost instantly,” she added.

“Oh, okay. I’ll put it later when I’m back in my room.” he reasoned.

“Why not now?” Wooshik squinted his eyes.

It didn’t help that your other friends also encouraged him to put it now. You remained quiet, gulping your drink until there was nothing left.. Jungkook can tell that you ran out of ideas too.

“Well, okay…” he sighed. Fuck it.

He removed his shirt and his friends almost had the same reaction as soon as he got his shirt over his head.

“Oh… Oh.”

Dara has her eyes wide open, staring at the insect bites. Her lips were formed into a small o. Jenny was confused, lines forming between her brows as she scanned his neck. Wooshik choked on something and was coughing for a good ten seconds. Blaire was covering her lips, obviously hiding a smile on her face. And the insect herself, you, looked away when you met his eyes.

“What?” Jungkook broke the silence. “It’s bad, I know.”

Jenny cleared her throat, “What… what insect bit you again?”

“I-I don’t know. I just saw them after I finished doing my workloads earlier.” he lied.

“I’m sorry but why does it look like hickeys?” Dara giggled.

“Dara!” Blaire scolded her.

Then, Wooshik joined, asking, “But is it though?”

“It’s not!” Jungkook exclaimed. “I-It’s actually kinda itchy.”

“It looks bad…” you awkwardly commented, just to break off your personal silence.

You feel bad seeing him cornered like this but embarrassed at the same time with your artwork on his neck. Jungkook turned his head to you with his eyes narrowing.

“I know, YN. That’s what I said.”

His tone seems a little annoyed and you totally understand why. Although this isn’t the first time you gave him love bites, you managed to hide it before.

“Then, you should totally put that cream Dara gave you.” you remind him about the said cream in his hand.

“After you put that, let’s go back to playing,” Wooshik told everyone. He then turned to his best friend, “And you keep your shirt off. The hickeys– I mean, those bites are gonna be fine.”

The sun was already setting when your friends decided to go back to the house. You decided to stay for a little longer on the shore to take pictures of Bam. Jungkook got back the house too to get his camera.

“Bam, look at here!” you tried to get Bam’s attention.

You were so focused on taking pictures that you didn’t notice Wooshik returning to look for his slippers.

“Do you want me to take pictures of you and Bam?” he asked.

You turned around, “Oh, it’s fine. Just Bam.”

He nods before turning his back, “Okay, Princess.”

You paused, confused, “What did you call me?”

“Princess?” Wooshik faced you and the first thing you noticed was that stupid smile on his face. “Oh, I thought you like being called that.”

Speechless, you just shook your head. Wooshik chuckled at your answer. A mix of confusion and surprise was painted all over your face.

“Okay, don’t stay out here for too long. You might get insect bites. Just like Jungkook.” he reminded you before running back to the house.

You rolled your eyes, whispering, “He knows.”

TAGLIST (closed)

@hobiuwusunshine @alinerl @bbangtanlove95 @daydreamiies @craftymoonchaos @awseokjin @yoonabeo @luvrsofbts @bloopkook @chvngbiin @takochelle @wildarmy @cuddlysoftbear @luv-minhyun-world @shydestinyyouth @bbtsficrecs @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @jkbabiey @hopeworldjimin @chieftoadturkeynickel @ppeachyttae @tannies-luv @loomipee @sanctify-mp3 @stuffy1985 @di0rgguk @tswisal1 @amara-mars @jksgirlhere @callmejimmeo @rapmonie2047 @daemontargaryenwhore @juju-227592

#bts fluff #bts series #bts drabble #bts scenarios #bts secret relationship au #bts established relationship au #bts friends to lovers #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook series #jungkook secret relationship au #jungkook established relationship #jungkook friends to lovers #our little private love affair

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cameronspecial · 10 months ago

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My Particular Girl

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Y/N needs things to be done a certain way and Rafe understands that.

Masterlist

Y/N likes things done in a particular. It’s the way her brain works. People often look at her and call her childish for the things she does to cater to these needs. Because of those people, she started to believe that she had no chance of finding love. Who would want to date someone who was so picky with the things are? Then Rafe came along to show her she doesn’t need to change; instead, it is the partner who should try to be open-minded and help her out. And Rafe really does try to do everything he can to help Y/N out.

———

Y/N sits with her little cousins in the living room, listening to them recount the story behind the drawings they are currently working on. She doesn’t know where Rafe went off too, but if she knows anything about him, he is probably off trying to win brownie points with her relatives. “And this is going to be us when you and Rafe take us to the beach,” Sophie recounts, holding up the picture. Y/N’s mouth drops open, “Wow, that looks amazing.” “We look like we are having so much fun,” Rafe adds, kissing Y/N’s temple from behind the couch. She stretches her head back to see Rafe. He is holding two plates in his hands and he rounds the couch to sit beside his girlfriend. He holds out a plate for her. She notices that her plate is different from his. It is one of the special sectioned plates from their home. He catches her examining eyes and worries he got something wrong. “Did I do something wrong? Each component is in its place. I separated the mashed potatoes, the steak and the vegetables,” he starts to tangent. “Should I have separated the mixed veggies too? I knew I should’ve separated them. I know you like to be able to identify the different textures easily.”

Her hands stop him from rising to fix what he thinks is a mistake. “No, it’s okay. You got everything right. I was just surprised you brought one of my plates. Thank you,” she reassures him, giving him a kiss. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and starts eating, “You’re welcome. I’m glad I got it right.”

———

They knock on the door but don’t wait for it to be opened by someone inside before entering the unlocked house. “Yo, Top. We’re here,” Rafe announces with a booming voice. It’s just a little get-together so the couple takes their shoes off. Right as they are about to step deeper into the house, Y/N sees the carpeted floor of the house. She can already feel the uncomfortableness of the rug tickling the bottom of her feet and she flinches at the thought. Rafe gently holds her back by her shoulder, “Wait here, I have to get something from the car.” She waits for him at the entrance, preparing herself to walk barefoot on the rug. He jogs back inside and places something on the ground. Her eyes dart down to see slippers. “Where did you get these?” she questions while putting them on. He kisses her on the cheek, “I bought new slippers to keep in the back of my trunk for this exact reason.” Warmth fills Y/N and she wraps her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

———

Y/N rests on the couch and watches as Rafe folds the laundry. Each article of clothing is folded exactly how she likes it with crisp edges. While she appreciates how attentive he is, worry starts to creep inside of her. What if he starts to realize that all the things he does to keep things to her taste are a waste of time? What if he starts to think she is too high-maintenance? He can see the gears turning in her head. “What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” he asks, leaning over to kiss her. She bows her head, “What if you break up with me because you get tired of having to do things a certain way for me like I am a child?” Rafe places what he is folding down and moves to the same couch as her. He brings her into a hug, attacking her face with kisses. “That would never happen because I love taking care of you. You are my particular girl and I would not trade you for anything in the world,” he promises.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @victory-in-the-llama @starkowswife @drewsmusee @maybankslover

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 9 months ago

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Things that I still can't believe we got:

Mermaid scene (beautiful, camp, queer, full of love, want to paint it on every wall of my house)

Ed in a little kitty collar, walkin around barefoot and working on his recovery

So many lovely sweet kisses, and Ed and Stede's first time being set to actual literal fireworks

Stede writing Ed love letters and sending each one off with a kiss

Ed painting a bride cake topper to look like himself!!!

Ed and Stede fighting towards each other across a beach while Nina Simone's "I Love My Baby" plays

Ed and Stede getting to start their life together 💕

It sucks SO bad that OFMD isn't getting a third season. But we got so much. Even in my wildest hopes for s2, I wouldn't have dared to believe we'd get to see any of these on TV, let alone all of them.

We still won.

#ofmd #our flag means death

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zara-renata · 2 months ago

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Even the rocks on the roadside in the N109 Zone could tell | ao3 | part 11 the Sylus series

Summary:

"How could you tell I was nervous?" -mc, phone call with Sylus "Remote Support" Sylus makes one final miscalculation. You wake up from a nightmare in a place you weren't ready to revisit. Sylus has to reckon with the inevitable consequences of how he treated you when you first met him, but you're paying the higher price.

Notes:

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV, some Kieran and Luke POV Slow burn, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers This story contains: grief, angst, a panic attack, self-destructive behavior, threatened violence (both real [against other characters] and imagined [against mc]), reference to in-game violence on Sylus's part, mc with PTSD, mc with self-esteem issues and negative self-talk, hurt/comfort, a shampoo epiphany This is probably the lowest point in their relationship, and has the least amount of comedy of the series. But Sylus's bullshit from their beginning needs to be addressed before true love can really take off.

You’re here again. You think you’ve always been here, and any other memory is the dream. You have always been here, in this echoing house, the worn floorboards under your feet, still polished, still perfect for sliding along on socked feet, competing to see who can careen down the hall and hit the door at the end first. You have gotten so many bruises from slamming into the door at the wrong angle, but every one was worth it, to collapse with Caleb into a fit of laughter at the end. Even when he lost, and hit you instead of the door, slamming your body back into the door a second time—doubling your chances of concussion, as your grandmother would scold afterwards. But you’re not wearing socks now, and no matter how far you walk, the door at the end never comes closer. The closed doors lining the hall approach and pass with your steady booted stride, landmarks that offer no guidance at all.

You look back on the fever dreams of what you thought was your real life until you found yourself here, in this place again. The first time you reached out and clasped Xavier’s hand in yours, pulling him to his feet, trying to help him brush off the dirt from his beautiful white battle gear. Being held in his arms as the shimmering starlight of his evol lifted you both into the air to safety. Offering him a bite of your snack, watching his normally placid face light up with pleasure at the taste.

The first time you startled Rafayel off of his stupid, unsafe ladder. Walking barefoot with him along a deserted beach, the warm water sweeping over your ankles. Picking up seashells, and asking him if this one would fit in with his jumbled collection of knick knacks contained in his chaotic studio? Coming upon an eel trapped in the sand at low tide, the only sign of life an occasional gasp for oxygen—watching him carefully dig it out of the sand and release it back into the water. It swam away energetically. He said it was a dumb little eel, and would just get stuck again with the next low tide. You told him that you’d both just have to come back often to ensure that wouldn’t happen.

The first time you saw Zayne again as an adult, crisp white lab coat over the broad shoulders of a man, so incongruous to your memory of the narrow shoulders of a little boy. His achingly gentle touch, when he listened to your heartbeat through the stethoscope, how he inexplicably held your wrist in his soft fingers to count your pulse instead of using the fingertip monitor. How he kept the flowers you gave him on the windowsill in his office and shook his head every time he had to stitch your wounds.

And … Sylus.

The first time he held you bound before him, the glow in his eye blinding as he ransacked your soul with all the care of a corrupt cop. How his rough palm wrapped around your throat, and the paralyzing strength with which he tightened his hold. The suffocation, and the hate, and the fear, crushing your breath. The first time he called you a disappointment. All of those things, and everything after—the soft caress of his hand in your hair, his warm body wrapped around yours. Those achingly gentle faux memories, not even dreams, probably. Just daydreams, fantasies born from the pathetic need to be held gently again, in the way you hope someone held you as a child before you lost your memories.

Because you’re here again. And it feels so timeless, and so real, compared to these other faded memories. You must have always been here. You hear someone cutting an apple, the dull thunk of the knife hitting the butcher block, the juices misting with each snick. You press your ear against every door you pass. He’s so close. You’re sure of it. You lift your steel-toed boot and slam the flat of your foot into the next door in this endless hallway. It doesn’t even rattle. You kick it, again, and again. You’re sweating. Your head is pounding. You’re losing your breath and you can’t feel your legs anymore. You kick again. And again. And again. With what little breath you have left, you start to scream, the tears and the snot running down your face. He’s right there. If you’re strong enough. If you’re persistent enough. You can get to him. You can break yourself out of this nightmare, if you’re just enough.

You scream, and you scream, and you kick, and you kick, until your throat gives out.

You wake up, and the scream from your dream is just a whimper in your throat. Your legs are asleep from how your body is folded in on itself, lying in what seems to be a bed.

You wake up in the dark.

You have no idea where you are.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, a jackhammer in the cracked cement of your body.

Your hair, your face, the pillow, the sheets on the bed you’re lying, what you’re wearing—wet. Sweat. Tears slipping from the corner of your eyes into the hair at your temples.

Where the fuck are you?

You sit up, wince at the tingling returning to your legs. Feel along the bed. Nothing. Your hand finally hits something smooth and hard. You pat around, find the base of what you hope is a lamp, let your hand drift up. You switch on the light.

Impossibly, your heart begins to beat even harder. No. No. You don’t want to be here. You aren’t ready to be here. As long as you see Sylus anywhere else—on the street, in a crowded club, in your apartment, even in your bed, you can keep the memories squashed deep, deep down with all the other things that frighten you, that cause you pain, and you can handle being near him. But you can’t reconcile your memories from this place with the memories of being swayed gently in his arms in a crowd, the tender touches on your couch, your bed, a glass of water held to soft lips, your head pillowed against a strong chest with a steadily beating heart as you fall asleep.

You can’t be here.

You crawl to the edge of the bed, land on bare feet on a plush rug over a cold marble floor. The room is empty. The bookshelves, the imposing desk in the corner, the chaise lounge at the foot of the bed, the black leather armchairs and marble topped coffee table. The dark walls, the record player. You recognize each and every object, although you have refused to return here in your mind since you were allowed to leave. You could walk through here blindfolded. You wish you were blindfolded.

The thin sweater you find yourself wearing is soaked through with sweat. You shiver in the air of Sylus’s silent bedroom. You swivel your head, searching for your own clothes. For your boots. Nothing. You don’t want to go deeper into his room, away from the door, an exit, toward the bathroom and his huge walk-in closet for your clothes, or even to borrow more of his. You want out. You can live without shoes. You can’t live if your heart explodes from the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You silently slip out of his bedroom into one of the echoing corridors of his base, with its deep maroon paneled walls and marble floors, the dense gloom of the N109 zone filtering through the huge windows lining this hallway. You remember every single detail. You hear nothing. Just the thundering of your heart. You stride through the labyrinthine halls, the high ceilings soaring above you along with the elaborate, savage designs of the chandeliers. You avoid going near the dining hall or the kitchen or the den or living room, sticking to the outer edges of the wing you know will lead you to the front door. To the way out of this place filling you with so much dread you could collapse under the weight if you falter for even a stuttered heartbeat.

Miraculously, you make it without seeing a single soul. You turn the gothic monstrosity of one of the double front door handles, fully expecting it to be locked from the inside, but it shifts easily in your hand. You open it only as far as necessary to squeeze your shivering body between the doors and let it close softly behind you.

The night is cold. It’s autumn now, after all. Since there are no natural trees in the N109 zone, the wind gusts unchecked against your already cold body. Sylus’s base sits on a cliff overlooking the valley of the N109 zone with its towering skyscrapers thrusting into the perpetual night like crystalline stalagmites in a vast cave. His house is accessible only by a long and winding road up the hillside. A proper villain’s lair. It’s going to be a long walk through the cold and dark if you don’t figure something else out.

You hate yourself, for your tendency to make assumptions. For not asking enough questions. For refusing to think about all the things that you should keep in the forefront of your mind every single second of every single day. Why had you assumed that Sylus was taking you to a hotel to wait for the evol linkage to dissipate? Why didn’t it occur to your stupid ass that he’d take you to his fortified base, where he is the safest, where it doesn’t cost him any money, where it is his home, since you were already in the N109 zone at Amnesia?

You just fell asleep in his big fucking tank like an idiot, without asking a damn thing.

You will deserve the walk ahead of you. Hopefully it will be what you need to never forget again that this man is using you for his own purposes, and probably every single thing he has done up to this point has been to further his goals involving his need for your resonance. After all, the shopkeeper made it plain from the very beginning: you can’t resonate with someone who frightens you. Someone you dislike. Someone who disgusts you. Sylus has never disgusted you. Quite the opposite, unfortunately. But fear and hate, individually, are probably sufficient to block whatever it is in you that allows you to connect to another in such an intimate way.

And what’s the best way to get someone to stop hating you? To stop being afraid of you? Determine what they need the most, and then give it to them.

Your insomnia. Your desperate loneliness, always there, under your skin, for as long as you can remember, but amplified in the aftermath of losing your family. Your craving for human touch and connection, the kind of touch and connection you can’t bring yourself to ask of your friends. That you can’t stand to seek in strangers anymore, after so many failures.

And of course, Sylus has known what you so desperately want, since the very first night you met him. Your mind drifts to your hand, wrapped securely in his. To him pulling you against him, and reading you bedtime stories about indemnification and allocation of risk and remedies in case of breach. To his soft kisses along your shoulder. How many times did he drop in at your place after he released you from his base? Three? It’s only taken three evenings to accomplish his plan that probably began with the deal about the brooch. Lull you into complacency, acquire your affection instead of your hate, and your willing help instead of your fear. Three evenings, to replace him choking you until you blacked out. To replace … everything that came after.

You look down at your bare feet and bare legs. You can survive this. You can survive anything.

You make an inventory of your current situation. You’re barefoot. Unarmed. Soaked in sweat, and the wind is gusting. You don’t have your phone. But you do have your Hunter’s watch. That’s enough. You’ll get far enough away from the base to avoid Sylus or his minions alerting to your absence and finding you outside, call for help, find some shelter, and wait for someone to come pick you up. You recall that the landscape along the winding road leading up to Sylus’s base is fairly isolated. You gamble that there won’t be anyone coming all the way up here at this time of night.

Once you’re home, you will be able to think straight. When your heart isn’t jackrabbiting in your chest. When this jittery feeling, like you can run a marathon without breaking a sweat, isn’t coursing through your pounding veins. When the lingering despair from the nightmare about your grandmother’s house has faded to the tolerable thrum of grief you’re used to these days. And you will uphold your end of the deal with Sylus. You meant it, when you let the coin decide. You can be as resolute in your decisions as he is. You will be his friend. Why, when you know that most of his behavior toward you is calculated, manufactured—a talented forgery? Because Sylus is very good at getting what he wants. He wanted your affection, and your willing help. And he has been successful in acquiring it, despite your best efforts to resist his charm. You’re honest enough to admit that to yourself. And what even is friendship, if you expect something in return? He may only be able to think of friendship in transactional, cost-benefit, return-on-investment terms, but you don’t want to live that way. Despite your best efforts, you like him so terribly much, and that’s the beginning and end of it.

You will help him with his love, for whatever your help is worth, and you’ll finally wipe the slate clean. You just need… you just need your heart to stop for a minute. That’s all. And that can’t happen here, in the place where Sylus treated you more honestly than he has ever treated you since you were allowed to leave.

You take a deep breath and begin to jog. You can survive this. You can survive anything.

***

After being thoroughly entertained at Amnesia by Sylus’s Hunter, Luke and Kieran finally managed to dump Noah with Linda after settling the terms of their bet regarding how long they think it will take their boss to successfully woo the object of his unhinged obsession.

The one rule: no interference that could tip the odds one way or the other. Luke, Kieran and Noah must act as neutral observers of the hilarious conundrum their boss finds himself in regarding the highly skilled, highly oblivious Hunter not being able to see what is obvious to anyone who has the unfortunate opportunity of being within a five kilometer radius of the two of them: that Sylus is head over heels, and so is the Hunter.

Each concerned party committed to upholding this sacred rule of non-intervention. Each of them lied through their teeth while making such a commitment. But Luke and Kieran can tell that countering whatever Noah will likely come up with to drag out this complicated courtship will require all of their combined talents to ensure the odds remain in their favor, and that Sylus will convince the Hunter to accept him sooner rather than later.

Luckily for them, this shitshow is a win-win situation. As long as Sylus is happy, Luke and Kieran are happy. And they can tell, the Hunter is already making Sylus happy. They can see it in how drastically his mood has improved ever since the protocore auction. He no longer vacillates between the few emotions he has shown in the years they’ve known him—rage, utter boredom, and the worst: an unsettling blankness. A cavalier attitude regarding whether he lives or dies, whether he wakes up in the morning or not, whether his heart is beating or at a standstill. He’ll sometimes make off-hand comments about the banality of just… surviving, of waking up to find that he’s still alive and being utterly indifferent to that fact. Every time he says shit like that, shivers run down Luke and Kieran’s spines. They’d much rather he punch holes in walls in a fit of rage or blow up buildings out of boredom than encounter him when he’s at his most… empty.

But ever since the auction, the twins have seen a veritable rainbow of emotions clear as a Linkon City’s sunny afternoon on their boss’s otherwise impassive face. Amusement. Worry. Fascination. Yearning. Pining. Longing. Craving.

“Luke, I’m truly proud of you for actually reading the thesaurus,” Kieran says from behind the steering wheel of their sleek, powerful muscle car. It was a present from Sylus. He claimed it was a bonus for their help in a particularly ugly business feud that ended up in more corpses than anticipated, but they both thought it was hilarious that the “bonus” arrived on the exact date of their latest birthday. Their boss really is the best.

“Thanks, man. It was like, really mind-blowing to learn how many words there are for Boss’s thirst for his pet.” Luke leans back in the sexy black leather bucket seat and enjoys the seat heating. Tonight is the coldest it’s been this fall. He fiddles with the sound system.

Kieran swats his hand away. “Driver’s choice. You know the rules.”

Luke pouts. “I’m not in the mood for Bach. Boring. I want Rachmaninov.”

“You don’t need to get wound up this close to home. It’ll take forever for you to settle down if you listen to Rachmaninov right now, and we really need to get some sleep. I have a feeling we’re about to get really busy with how distracted Boss is going to be with the Hunter.” He drums his fingers along the steering wheel. “He’s going to need all the help he can get.”

“Ugh, fiiine.” Luke hunches further into the comfy seat and stares out the windshield, watching as the bright headlamps slice through the dark gloom, lighting up a swath of the deserted road leading up to their home. Suddenly, he jolts in the seat.

“What the fuck—”

“Is that—?”

“The Hunter, yeah—”

“And, what the fuck—”

“Yeah, no shoes—”

“Call—”

“Boss. On it.”

Luke already has his phone clutched in his hand, and the ringing fills the car through the sophisticated sound system Sylus ensured the car had, along with the fastest, strongest engine for this model on the market.

Kieran watches the Hunter disappear in the rearview mirror, while simultaneously slowing the car as quickly as possible without making excessive noise that could spook the Hunter.

Sylus’s deep voice suddenly fills the car. “Speak.”

“Uh, Boss?”

“Who else, Luke?” Sylus says dryly. “Speak.”

“Do you know where your Hunter is?”

The line is silent for a beat. “I left Kitten in my bed, asleep, while I went to take care of some paperwork in the study.” He pauses. “Is there a reason you’re asking me this?” Anyone who didn’t know their boss like they do would think his tone of voice was indifferent. But all Luke and Kieran hear is a spike of worry.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure we just passed someone on the hillside road to base who looks, like, a scary amount like your Hunter. With no shoes on. Or coat.” Luke winces in anticipation of their boss’s response.

The line goes dead.

Kieran has slowed the car sufficiently to be able to pull a u-turn without tires screeching, and expertly swings the car around. He cuts the headlights, counting on the light from the blood-red moon to provide sufficient visibility. He then accelerates until he has the Hunter in view, and slowly follows the lonely figure, ready to provide protection until their boss can arrive and take the situation in hand. Luke and Kieran can tell that whatever you’re experiencing, this is not a situation that they are equipped to handle, and if they come up too quickly behind you, they’re worried you will bolt off-road and be even more difficult to collect again. They really, really hope you don’t notice their presence behind you until Sylus arrives.

***

Fuck. You’re being followed. And you haven’t found one damned area along the roadside that looks like it could serve as good cover since leaving Sylus’s long, convoluted driveway, because this region is a lifeless wasteland of bare dirt and rock and only small outcroppings of earth along the hill’s descent.

You didn’t remember it being so desolate. Probably because you were just so relieved to be escaping with your life, you were looking at the world through rose-colored glasses and failed to notice that the area leading up to Sylus’s base is as hospitable as the N109 zone’s red, red moon.

You had stiffened, almost pausing in your steady jog along the roadside as a sleek, sexy car that looked like it was built for racing came careening around a bend in the road, the two figures in it just silhouettes behind the blinding headlights as they roared past in a huge gust of wind and gravel. You had hoped, with all of your wildly out-of-control heart, that they were just business associates heading to the base for a meeting or something, and that whoever was in that vehicle wouldn’t recognize you or care about a lone nutcase going for a middle-of-the-night run in the middle of nowhere.

But you’re a highly trained Hunter, and you’ve gotten more sleep lately. Without turning around, you can tell that the same car is following behind you, which would be alarming enough, without the fact that whoever’s driving it is trying to be a sneaky shit with the headlights off. As if you can’t hear the purring of that sweet engine even over the strong wind. Idiots.

Your mind races. You have no weapon. You don’t even have shoes. Surprise is the only means of gaining an advantage. You half-turn, wrap your arms around your stomach and drop into a crouch, as if your stomach hurts and you can’t keep jogging because of the pain. Head down, you watch out of your peripheral as the car keeps slowly approaching in the dark. You let one arm drop from your waist on your side not in view from the car, and feel around on the ground until you find what you’re looking for. Then you wait.

When the car is only just a couple meters from you, you launch yourself from your crouched position and sprint directly at it. Its brakes screech as the driver is taken by surprise, but it’s too late. You’ve already vaulted from the hood onto the roof, and you’ve brought the heavy, dense rock clutched in your hand as hard as you can against the driver’s window. As it shatters, you reach through the now open space with your other hand and grab the driver by the throat, half pulling him out of the tinkling window frame. You hold the rock high above your head.

“Why the fuck are you following me,” you bite out through clenched teeth.

You hear the other car door open, but remain focused on the person you have by the throat.

“Don’t come any closer or I will make your friend unrecognizable for identification at the autopsy,” you snarl. You see the other person freeze in your peripheral vision.

You return your focus to the driver. Staring into his grimacing face, you see a young man, one you don’t recognize. He has a riot of floppy dark curls, shaved to a sharp fade on the sides and back of his head. His big dark eyes reflect the light of the red moon as they dart all over your face. He takes a deep breath.

“If I told you that you do not have anything to fear from me, or my brother, would you kindly put me down?” he asks in a voice that sounds alarmingly familiar. Your stomach cramps almost as painfully as your heart has been for the past hour. Without letting go of the driver’s throat, you turn and look at the man standing at the open passenger door, looking back at you with the same face as the man you have in your grip.

You let go, and Kieran sinks back into the car with a grunt. You scramble off the car roof and back away from it.

Just as you’re about to apologize, you see headlights cutting through the dark. You’re suddenly overcome with the wish that Sylus had killed you when you first met, because you can’t imagine how he’s going to react now, when he sees that you assaulted his employee and damaged his property with the rock that is now falling out of your nerveless hand.

You want to turn and run. You want to put this fucking night behind you. You hate that you’ve been thinking that so often lately. Every single time, you just want the night to be over. You’re so tired. Your heart won’t fucking stop doing that horrible thing in your chest, and you still feel like you need to run until you collapse to make it stop. But you’ve learned by now that there is no running from Sylus. Not in any way that matters. So you just stand there, waiting for the hammer to fall.

Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to enjoy toying with his prey tonight, because he quickly comes to a stop and parks the tank behind the twins’ car. He gracefully climbs down from the driver’s seat, slams the car door, and strides up to Kieran’s side, his black biker boots with the chains crunching on the broken glass. You wince with each footfall. He leans down and looks at Kieran. “You good?”

You can’t hear Kieran’s response, but you see Sylus nod and straighten. He gestures for Luke to get in the car, who obeys without comment. He then taps the roof firmly, twice, and strides toward you as Kieran pulls the car into the road, hangs an efficient u-turn, and disappears into the night.

You close your eyes and wait for Sylus to… you’re not sure? Hit you? Slam you with his evol? You brace yourself. Just because he’s been affectionate up until now, even through you throwing the duffel at him in front of an audience, doesn’t mean he’ll suffer you hurting his employees for no good reason. It doesn’t matter that this is the first time you've ever seen them without their masks on, and that it felt incredibly threatening as they followed you, for some unfathomable reason, with their damn headlights off.

Sure, you could fight back. Try to block his blow. But at this point, you feel like you fucking deserve it. You want to punch yourself in the face for hurting Kieran. You don’t know him, but he’s never been mean to you. The worst he’s ever done is give you a flare gun and pretend a pair of handcuffs could magically restrict Sylus’s evol. He didn’t deserve to be scared half to death and choked through a broken window because of his earlier prank. It occurs to you now that maybe stalking you with the headlights off was the twins’ idea of another prank? And you broke their car window and choked one of them. For fuck’s sake, at this point, you’ll welcome Sylus’s fist.

But instead of the hit you’re still bracing for, you jerk a little when you feel the heavy weight of a warm coat being draped around your shivering body.

You open your eyes. Sylus stands in front of you, wearing a thick cable knit sweater.

“If you wanted to go for a run, sweetheart, you could have just told me. We have a perfectly functional home gym, equipped with treadmills with big screens that make you feel like you’re running on a serene mountain path or along the beach. There’s no need to endure the desolation of the N109 zone’s ‘scenery’ when you’re here with me but want to work out.”

You just stare at him.

“What’s wrong? Crow’s got your tongue?” One corner of his mouth lifts as he taps the corner of your mouth gently with his index finger.

What the hell is happening? “Are you not mad at me?” you ask, completely at a loss.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

You gesture a little helplessly. “I hurt Kieran. I damaged your property. I interrupted whatever you were doing since you’re now out here instead of back at your home.”

“You didn’t damage my property. The car belongs to Luke and Kieran. Can I touch you?”

“What?” Your heart is a bloody, clenched fist, punching your body from the inside out. Sylus’s apparent calm in the face of all the mess that is you is making you feel like you’re insane.

“I said, can I touch you?” he repeats, as if he has all the patience in the world to repeat questions you clearly heard the first time.

“Like, can you hit me? Or strangle me? You want my permission to give me what I deserve?”

Sylus’ face changes. If you hadn’t been spending so much time recently watching videos on micro expressions and bluffing and acting, you might have missed it. He looks furious for a microsecond, and you want to take a step back. But you deserve whatever it is he’s feeling right now. You force yourself to stay still. You look up into his now neutral, lovely face.

He breathes in through his nostrils. “I will repeat this as many times as you need to hear it,” he says calmly, as the wind sweeps his silver hair across his forehead. Your heart is going to kill you, as you live through the eternity of the pause in this sentence. “I will never, ever hit you. And I will never think that you deserve to be hurt, for anything that you do, or don’t do.”

Okay. Okay, weird. He’ll strangle you, but he won’t hit you? He thought you deserved to be held captive for three days, denied food and water, forced to resonate, but he expects you to believe that he doesn’t want to punish you for fucking up as big as you did tonight? Where is the thin red line here? How can he say that he will never think you deserve to be hurt, when he hurt you so terribly during those first three days?

“Ask your question,” he says, but it’s not a command. It sounds more like a gentle invitation. What alternate reality have you stepped in tonight?

“I don’t understand how your mind works,” you say instead of obeying him.

“If you don’t ask, then you’ll continue not knowing how it works.” He still sounds infinitely patient. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t read your mind. Unless you ask, I won’t always know what you need from me.”

You shiver, even under the warmth of his heavy coat, but can’t bring yourself to answer. You close your eyes against the memory of his calloused hand around your throat. Of him tossing you in front of a huge mecha battlebot, sneering “You can handle it.” Of him telling you to survive the night, or else enjoy your last meal at his table. You open your eyes.

Sylus is watching your face, thumbs hooked in both trouser pockets. He shakes his head a little. “All right. I propose that we go back to the base, and you can pose all your questions there, no strings attached, without you standing out here freezing to death on your bare feet.”

This time you do take a step back, shaking your head. “No. No, nope, no thank you. If you could just dump me somewhere closer to the city, I can just get someone from the Association to pick me up. We can talk another time.”

He watches you closely, and you feel naked, with your heart a sledgehammer against the brittle framework of your ribs, and the sweat still soaking your hair. “Is there a particular reason you’re reluctant to go back home with me?” he finally asks.

You choke a little on a laugh. “You could say that,” you say dryly, with all the calm you can muster through the chaos in your chest.

“Care to share?”

You’re so tired. You’re so, so tired. None of it seems to matter anymore—whether he hits you, leaves you on the side of the road, or splatters you onto the gravel with his evol. “Do you really not know, Sylus? With all of your insight, do you really need your aether core to figure out why I wouldn’t want to go back to your criminal headquarters?”

“I thought you were getting used to the idea of the criminal aspect of my life,” he says slowly, as if that’s the important part.

“You’re right. I care less and less, every day, that you’re a wanted outlaw. But I really have no interest in reliving the days you spent choking me out and trying to brute force your way into resonating with me,” you murmur, because it’s so hard to say out loud, let alone think about it. You’re shaking. You’re shaking so hard, your bones hurt. Your teeth are chattering. None of these things have anything to do with how cold you are.

Sylus becomes very still, with the red, red moon above him, the wind still gusting through his hair, pulling at his sweater, and the dead earth stretching behind his tall figure.

“Can I touch you?” he asks again.

Can he touch you? Of course he can. All he has to do is what he has always done. He can just reach out and take what he thinks he deserves from you. As he has done since the first moment you met. But you don’t want to have to give him permission for it. You know you deserve it, but you still have enough of a sliver of self-preservation, or pride, or backbone—something in you refuses to give him this last bit of yourself by being complicit in whatever he wants to inflict on you right now.

“Can I touch you? Not to hit you. Not to choke you. Not to cause you any pain, in any way, whatsoever.”

You’re so confused. “Then why are you asking for permission, when you’ve never done that before?”

“Because I can see that bringing you to the base tonight, without talking to you about it, when you haven’t been back since our first few days together, was a mistake on my part. I may be many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. I do not intend to make the same mistake more than once.”

“I was stupid for not asking you where we were going,” you try to protest, although you don’t know why, through your clicking teeth.

“No, you weren’t. You trusted me to take you somewhere you would be comfortable. It was my fault for not considering that you would not feel safe in my home because of the way we began.” His voice sounds so resolute.

You just look down at your toes.

“Can I, please, touch you?” he asks, yet again, but this time he sounds a little strained.

Now that you know he’s not going to try to hurt you, you can finally nod. As soon as you start to bob your head, you feel yourself swept into the air, his strong arm under your knees, the other under your shoulders, and he holds you tightly, so that your face is tucked into his throat.

He carries you to the tank and manages to get the door open without letting you go, but instead of putting you on the passenger seat, he sets you on one of the bench seats further back in the vehicle, pulls the door shut behind himself, and sits next to you. He pauses, taking you in from head to toe, and then leans forward next to the driver’s seat and fiddles with something on the dash screen. He then sits back and pulls you onto his lap. Apparently, he hadn’t turned off the vehicle when he first arrived, because it’s so warm in here. He rests his hand, somehow still warm after standing out in the cold, against your heart.

“I know you want to go home right now. But it’s over an hour away. You need to get warmed up sooner rather than later. Do you trust me enough to allow me to take you back to base until you’re no longer shaking so hard it’s vibrating the whole armored vehicle?” he speaks, lips against your wet hair.

“It’s a tank, Sylus,” you protest, because even now you can't help yourself.

“Do you trust me enough to allow me to take you back to base until you’re no longer shaking so hard it’s vibrating the whole tank?” Sylus murmurs into your hair.

You don’t want to go back there. You just want to close your eyes, and be anywhere else but inside your body right now. Your mind drifts back to how thirsty you were in that house, the house he wants take you now. How thirsty you were, and no water was given. And when the terror would recede and exhaustion seeped into its place, the awareness of your hunger, and no food was given. How did you ever trust him to come near you again? How can he possibly ask you if you trust him enough to take you back there?

But being in his arms like this, despite everything he has done to you, his hand against your broken heart, is calming you in a way that makes trust and choice seem meaningless. You want to just stay right here, in this moment, where the past and the future are just fever dreams, and the only reality is Sylus’s hand, his lips, his chest against your shoulder and side. You want to carve your way into him, force him to carry you inside his skin so you’ll never be cold again. Even though he's the reason you're cold to begin with. You're so tired of this tangled, terrible bond with this terrible man.

And yet. Like always with him, when he's right here, holding you with such fierce tenderness, you find yourself surrendering to the temptation, to the seductive illusion that you’re safe with him, and you let him have whatever he wants.

You just nod, your cheek rubbing against the soft sweater over his clavicle. You feel his chest expand in what might be a relieved sigh, or just exasperation, and the vehicle begins to move. You startle, but he shushes you. “It’s in self-drive mode, we’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You relax again, and the way back is a blur. You don’t want to look, as he lifts you from the car and carries you through the underground garage beneath the base, into the elevator that lifts you to the floor on which his bedroom is located. The same expansive windows, soaring ceilings, subtle light in wall sconces stream by as he strides forward.

“I can walk,” you try to protest, but again, he softly shushes you.

“No, you can’t.”

“I’m cold, not paralyzed,” you counter, exhausted, amazed you still have the capacity to argue with him.

“Yes, yes, but you haven’t seen your feet. And I have.”

“What?” you lift your head, but he presses your face back into his chest.

“You ran five kilometers without shoes on a semi-paved road, kitten. I’m pretty sure you’re not accustomed to barefoot running, based on the state of your feet.”

You shudder even harder. You hadn’t even noticed the pain.

And then, you’re back in his bedroom. You feel him shift, toeing off his shoes at the threshold. He passes the lounge area, his hulking desk, the bookshelves and the bed, and takes you into the black marble cave of a bathroom you recall from your hunt for the brooch. He sets you on the padded bench thingy that probably has a fancy name that you imagine every rich person has even in their bathrooms and then goes to the walk-in shower and turns on the water. Almost immediately, steam begins to fill the expansive space. He returns and kneels at your feet.

“Your clothes need to come off,” he says softly, but loud enough that you can still hear him over the spray.

Since you’re back here, the place where you spent so long helpless and trapped, it’s easy to slide right back into that space, but this time you don’t have the energy to even try to help yourself—you just nod again, but don’t move.

Sylus pauses, but then slowly reaches out and slides his coat from your shoulders. Then, so, so gently, he lifts the lower hem of the sweater you’re wearing, knuckles drifting along the sensitive skin of your stomach, and gathers the material under your armpits. With his other hand, he lifts one of your arms and pulls it through and out of the sleeve, and gently rests it back at your side again. He repeats the movement on your other side, and lifts the sweater over your head. Then, with one arm, he scoops you from the bench, gently but efficiently peeling the sleep shorts from your hips and over your legs. You’re left in just your underwear.

He carries you to the shower, the steam warm on your skin, and lowers you on one of the marble benches built into the wall. The water streaming from the shower hits him full on, and his own clothes are soaked through almost immediately. He reaches behind himself and pulls the sweater and undershirt over his head and tosses them back into the bathroom. He then grabs his belt, unbuckling it in practiced moves. Unzips his trousers, slips out of them, tossing them behind him as well. Clad in only a black pair of boxer-briefs, wet hair tarnished silver, he sits next to you on the bench and pulls you onto his lap again, your back to his chest.

And then… the two of you just sit like that, floating together in a timeless space composed of water, skin, and the steady shush of the shower water. His arms around you are as tight as a straitjacket, securing you against him as if he thinks you’ll dissipate like the steam and drift away if he doesn’t anchor you to his own body. He doesn’t say anything at all. He doesn’t ask anything at all. He just holds you, his cheek resting in your hair, and doesn’t let go.

Slowly, so slowly, your heart slows in your chest. Your body-wracking shivering ebbs in violence, until, finally, you are completely still. Now that your muscles aren’t locked into defending against the convulsions from the cold, and… everything else, you melt into Sylus, head lolling on his chest, the spray of the water soothing everything that hurts, and his steady heartbeat at your back soothing everything else.

But of course, because you’re you, and this life is your life, this peaceful emptiness doesn’t last long. You slowly become aware of the most terrifying need welling up inside you, one you’ve managed to resist since… now that you think about it, since the last time you were in Sylus’s home. You need to fucking cry.

All of your efforts to avoid this feeling—the terrifying loss of control, the exposure of the weakest part of yourself to yourself, or to another—refusing to speak about the terror and the pain inside you, the terror and pain you carry through every minute of every day, to your friends, to your doctor—all in a desperate bid to keep the floodgates of your tears bolted shut, are crashing onto the shore of this ocean of need. The need to cry. You’ve tried so desperately to avoid it, because once you start, you’re afraid that you will never, ever stop.

But now, being held by this man, who is so deeply threaded into the source of this feeling, somehow triggers the switch in your brain that says safe, safe, you can release the flood behind the gates, and you will not drown, because he’ll hold your head above water, no matter the cost .

You have no idea why your brain thinks this. You can guess why your brain considers a gunshot the same as a bomb, or why your first instinct when approached from behind is threat threat threat, neutralize first, ask questions later . But you cannot fathom for the fucking life of you why your brain sees Sylus and whispers, Shelter. Sustenance. Safety.

You can’t help it. The first tears begin to gather at the edges of your eyes. Your breath quickens, your chest begins to heave with the effort of holding it in. Your face is hot. But despite all of your will focused on not. fucking. crying... the tears begin to fall. At first, silently, but then from deep inside your chest, the sobs clawing their way out of your lungs through your throat, and suddenly you’re howling.

It hurts. It hurts so much. You hate it. You hate that Sylus is here as silent witness to all the weakest parts of yourself. You twist in his arms, straddle his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his throat, and then you weep. You wail, snot and spit and tears sliding down his chest, because you’re blocking the shower’s spray.

And Sylus? He keeps his arms wrapped around you, his cheek still in your hair, and doesn’t say a thing. After a while, you realize that he has started to shift on the bench, gently rocking you as you fall apart in his arms. One big hand, pressed flat on your back, runs firmly from the top of your spine to your lower back, and then back again. Still anchoring you to him. You feel a low vibration in your chest, under all the other sounds of the loud shower, and realize he’s humming very quietly. You have no idea if he’s humming something in particular. But the feeling in your chest is so soothing, eventually you realize that your sobs, and your tears, have slowed, just as the shivering of your body did while wrapped in his arms.

And then you’re done. You don’t have anything left—just the hollow relief of not being afraid, not shivering, not crying—the relief of not feeling much of anything at all. You try to hold on to it, grasp it in your fists. But like everything else, it slips through your fingers all the same, and you feel the shame come.

Miraculously, the shower water is still hot. It’s beating down on your back, your lowered head, still tucked under Sylus’s chin. You try to sit up, move away, but he just tightens his hold.

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” he asks, sounding like he has sounded since the end of the auction. Slightly amused. Curious. Infinitely tolerant.

You can’t say anything. You’re so embarrassed that he just witnessed all of… that. You just want to escape now.

“Hmm?” he murmurs into your hair, to emphasize his question in the face of your refusal to respond. And then, “Why are you always trying to leave me?”

You’re so surprised by the raw vulnerability in his question that you pull back to look into his face. He’s still holding you so tightly, your noses brush. His eyes are wet from the shower spray, droplets clinging in his dark lashes.

“What do you mean?”

“You leaving the base without saying a word is the second time in just one night that you were considering leaving me, without even telling me,” he says evenly, big hand still spread across your back. “Why?”

Suddenly, you’ve had enough. You are so tired of not understanding him, of trying to decipher clues from his inexplicable behavior, the incongruous way he touches you, treats you when you’re at your lowest, compared to how he treated you when you first met. “Why do you even care, Sylus? No amount of utility that I may have for you is worth you putting up with… this,” you gesture to yourself, face twisted in disgust.

“Utility?” he repeats, tilting his head. The hand on your back drifts upward until he has his big palm wrapped around the back of your neck, thumb along the side of your throat, fingers plunging into your hair.

“The dating advice… the resonance,” you remind him, though you don’t know why. You assume he knows exactly what you were referring to, that he’s just buying time to think of an answer that will make you stop asking inconvenient questions.

“You think I’m… ‘putting up’ with you, as you so charmingly phrase it, because I want your help with convincing my beloved that I’m sincere, and because I want you to resonate with me again? Is that what you’re saying?” he summarizes your thoughts.

“Why else would you go to all this trouble to spend so much time on me, when at every turn I end up doing something ridiculous? First, almost having a panic attack at the auction. Then, the very next time we’re out in public together, I make a scene during one of your business meetings. Then, the same night, because I’m just that awesome, I have another panic attack and almost kill one of your employees because I thought they were some human trafficker thinking he had an easy target tonight.”

“Why did you think they were human traffickers?” Sylus asks.

“He was following me with his fucking headlights off in the middle of the night on a deserted road in the N109 zone! What would you have assumed?” you demand, forgetting the whole point of this conversation.

He tilts his head, makes a little moue with his mouth. “Fair enough,” he acknowledges. “And that’s exactly why I’m not mad at you. I didn’t believe for a second that you would attack him for no reason. And, neither did he, by the way. Which is why you’re still in one piece.”

You eye him. “What do you mean?”

Sylus considers you for a moment, and then sighs. “Do you think you’re up to getting washed up before we unpack what you just said? I’ll make us something to eat and we can talk about everything once you’re clean and dry.”

You look down at your fingers, and see that their tips resemble raisins. You’ve made Sylus sit in this shower for at least an hour while you lost your shit. Despite the rich bastard being able to afford never-ending warm water, apparently, you can’t imagine this is how he wanted to spend his version of his evening. You nod.

“Finally, some sense from you,” he smiles slightly, lifting you in his arms. He sets you gently on the shower floor, and grabs a bottle from the built-in shelving containing a bunch of shower products. He kneels in front of you, his broad back blocking the spray from hitting your face. Despite the heat in the room, you shiver as he reaches toward you, as you feel his fingers slide from your calf to your ankle. Your brain stalls out and you can’t bring yourself to protest as he lifts your leg and gently foams some fragrance-free soap, and as delicately as possible washes the now-stinging sole of your foot. He gently lowers it back to the shower’s marble floor, and does the same with your other foot. When he’s done, he simply holds your foot in his palm, looking at it contemplatively, thumb running along the skin near your ankle.

After a few moments, he eyes your face, and then his gaze drifts to your hair.

“I probably suck at washing someone else’s hair. Can you teach me how to do yours?”

You start shaking your head. “I may have hurt my feet, but I’m still capable of washing my own hair. You really don’t have to do this for me,” you begin, but he shakes his head.

“Just indulge me. Please.” He looks steadily at you. Something about the way he says please, and the fact that it’s the second time tonight he’s asked you so earnestly for your permission to touch you, has you nodding, again.

He gently squeezes your foot, and then moves to get a few more bottles from the veritable drugstore he has stashed in the shower shelves. He then kneels back at your side and shows you, to your amazement, the same products that are sitting in your own shower back home. “Show me how you use these,” he says.

You stare at the bottles. Then you stare at his face. His eyes seem to gleam through the shower steam.

“Why—?” you ask, but he just shrugs.

“I was hoping you’d visit me,” he says nonchalantly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to stock all of his friends’ personal hygiene products in his bedroom’s en suite bathroom.

Your mind drifts over all of the assumptions you’ve held about this man since you met him. All of the assumptions that have been utterly incorrect. You think about your assumption that he was dreaming about someone else, as he was biting your neck. You think about your assumption that the person he was describing in the Lethe lounge was someone else—anyone else, either one of your friends, a fellow Hunter, or someone you don’t even know. You think about the deal he made with you tonight—the help he says he needs in convincing someone that his feelings are sincere. Someone who refuses to consider that he doesn’t have an ulterior motive in treating them with kindness. In spending time with them. In devoting his precious free time to caring for them. Your gaze drifts between the bottles of the mid-range shampoo and conditioner he’s holding in his strong hands, because you can’t afford the really fancy shit you would really like to splurge on but you have too much pride to just buy the stuff from the grocery store.

You understand the nature of tools. You work with tools every day in your job. Your knives, your swords, your guns. You maintain your tools with a diligence that others may consider fanatical, but which you know will help you survive, in the end. A whet stone, to sharpen your blades. Gun brush and oil, to clean and ensure the weapon doesn’t jam when you need it the most. These things are essential in caring for your most useful possessions.

If you are a tool, the only things Sylus needs to maintain your utility are an absence of fear, your willingness to help him, the strength of your body in being well rested and well fed. Everything he has done up till now could be interpreted as serving the purpose of maintaining a tool he intends to use in the future. But a tool doesn’t have to be attractive. A tool doesn’t need clean, well-moisturized hair to function. The cosmetics of the thing are irrelevant, as long as it can efficiently serve its purpose. But you also know that Sylus likes shiny things. He likes the best, finest things. But if he wanted you to be as attractive as possible for aesthetic purposes, he could have bought the expensive, top-of-the shelf products that you’re sure he buys for himself if he was hoping you’d visit and inexplicably be showering in his bathroom. But no. He bought the products that you use. That you’re used to. That he knows you like because you had bought them for yourself. You cannot understand how the presence of your own shampoo and conditioner in his shower could serve any of the purposes of an owner maintaining the utility of a tool.

You look back up into his face, and he’s looking at you patiently, but also with an eagerness to get started on helping you with your hair. Aside from everything else—how you started, how he treated you in this house—you don’t dare believe that the assumptions you’ve been making up until now are wrong. You aren’t ready to handle the emotional devastation if you begin to hope that the person Sylus wants in his life is… not someone else, only to find out that such an assumption is also wrong. You can’t. You can’t, not yet.

So you just gesture at the shampoo. “I start with this.”

He sets the conditioner down. You proceed to tell him how you take care of your hair, and he follows your instructions silently, with a clumsy obedience that is incredibly endearing. His fingers along your scalp are so soothing, you melt into him as he washes your hair, your back to his chest. When he’s done, he takes the same care with the conditioner, touching you like you’re made of the most delicate blown glass instead of the scratched and scuffed stainless steel you imagine yourself to be.

When he’s done, he withdraws his hands from your hair and says next to your ear, “I’ll leave you to finish washing up. Towels and clothes will be on the bench. Call for me, and I’ll bandage your feet.”

And then you’re alone, with the water still beating down on your chest and shoulders. You peel off your underwear, and just sit there, knees drawn to your chest, letting the soothing heat stream down your back.

Your mind drifts. Again, you think of his calloused hand around your throat. You think of him sneering that you’re such a disappointment. You think of the thirst, and the hunger. You think about him dragging you across the floor with his evol, every time you tried to claw your way of the room where he forced you to resonate, over and over again.

You think about his embrace as you danced at the auction, your clasped hands as he let you decide when to detonate the bombs before you slipped into a panic attack. You think about the first time you fell asleep with him, on the back of his motorcycle. You think of a pot of poisonous flowers, wine the color of his eyes in a glass held to your mouth, his hands in your hair tonight.

You know that you can’t continue like this. Something has to give. You can’t be his friend, while being terrified of your memories of him. You need to do what he has asked and ask him questions, so that you can finally reconcile the man who just washed your feet so tenderly with the man who suggested cutting off your hand to break the linkage between you the first time the energy shackles bound you two together. The man who brings you wine, and more food than you could eat in a week, with the man who starved you for days.

You slowly get to your feet, wincing at the pain in your soles. You must have cut your feet up pretty bad, but you don’t want to look. You hobble to the shelves and let your hand drift over the array of neatly organized bottles. Your hair products are the only familiar products. Everything looks fancy as hell, with minimal branding, dark and masculine. You find body wash, and squeeze some onto your palm. The scent of citrus rises to your nose—you’ve finally found the source of oranges you sometimes detect on Sylus’s skin. You eagerly lather the soap between your hands and quickly cover your body with it.

When you’re done rinsing, you hobble out of the shower and find the towel and clothes stacked neatly just as Sylus had described. You even find the same type of towel you use specifically on your hair. You wrap it around your head, slip into the silky tank top, shorts and robe, and sit for a moment, elbows on your knees. You see yourself in one of the huge mirrors above the large sink and counter. You look so fucking tired. It’s time. You can’t keep shoving everything down, down deep. You need answers.

“Sylus,” you call. You wait. He appears in the doorway, leans his long body against door frame, shirtless with black silken pants hung low on his waist, warm looking slippers on his big feet.

"Yes, my dearest treasure?"

You laugh a little at the absurd endearment. Somehow, even when you're feeling at your worst, he always manages to make you laugh. It would be so easy, to close your eyes. To pretend that the way you began with him was the dream, that his gentle touch and silly endearments are the real Sylus. The only Sylus. But you're tired of lying to yourself. If you try to shove it all down, down deep, what happened tonight will only repeat itself, in possibly worse ways. You need to find a way forward, a way to realign the conflicting images of Sylus, to sift through them like mirages in the desert. You'd rather see him clearly, from his most malignant to his most tender selves, than continue to be lost between your horrific memories from those first three days and how he's looking at you right now. As if you're somehow precious to him. You take a deep breath.

��“Can we talk?”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lnds #lds #l&ds #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #love and deepspace fanfiction #i'm worried that this is too heavy #but i think how sylus treated mc at the beginning can't just be glossed over #my fanfic #i'm hoping to return to more shenanigans maybe halfway through the next part or the part after #hope some people still enjoy it #not to worry no twins were hurt in the making of this silly fic

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barefootbeachresort · 1 year ago

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Barefoot Beach Condo Resort, Indian Shores, Florida Vacation Rentals

Introduction

Nestled along the pristine shores of the Gulf of Mexico, the Barefoot Beach Condo Resort in Indian Shores, Florida, offers an exquisite haven for vacationers seeking a memorable coastal escape. With its stunning views, luxurious accommodations, and a plethora of recreational activities, this resort has become a sought-after destination for travelers in search of sun, sand, and relaxation. This article delves into the charms of Barefoot Beach Condo Resort, highlighting its vacation rentals and the enchanting experiences it offers to guests.

The Location: Indian Shores, Florida

Indian Shores, a picturesque coastal town on Florida's Gulf Coast, is a hidden gem for vacationers. It's known for its tranquil ambiance, white sandy beaches, and breathtaking sunsets. The town offers a perfect balance between a serene getaway and easy access to nearby attractions. Barefoot Beach Condo Resort is ideally situated in the heart of Indian Shores, allowing guests to explore the local charm while enjoying the comforts of a world-class resort.

Vacation Rentals

The vacation rentals at Barefoot Beach Condo Resort are a blend of elegance and comfort. Spacious and well-appointed, they cater to various group sizes, making it an excellent choice for couples, families, and friends traveling together.

Condominiums: The resort offers a variety of condo options, including one, two, and three-bedroom units. Each condo boasts a fully equipped kitchen, a cozy living area, and a private balcony with views of the Gulf. The contemporary design and modern amenities provide a home-away-from-home experience.

Amenities: The vacation rentals come with a range of amenities, including free Wi-Fi, flat-screen TVs, in-unit washer and dryer, and a well-equipped kitchen. The resort also provides complimentary beach chairs and umbrellas, ensuring guests can make the most of their beachfront stay.

Scenic Views: Perhaps one of the most enchanting features of Barefoot Beach Condo Resort is the mesmerizing views of the Gulf of Mexico. Imagine waking up to the sound of the waves and stepping out onto your private balcony to witness a breathtaking sunrise. These panoramic views create lasting memories for guests.

Recreational Activities

While the beach itself is a major attraction, Barefoot Beach Condo Resort offers a host of recreational activities and facilities to keep guests entertained.

Beachfront Pool: The resort features a large beachfront pool, perfect for those days when you prefer freshwater to saltwater. Sunbathe on the pool deck, take a dip, or simply relax with a book.

Tennis Courts: Sports enthusiasts can enjoy a game of tennis on the resort's well-maintained courts.

Fitness Center: Stay active and fit during your vacation at the resort's on-site fitness center.

Water Sports: For those seeking more adventure, the resort offers opportunities for water sports such as paddleboarding, kayaking, and jet skiing.

BBQ Grills and Picnic Areas: Gather with family and friends for a barbecue by the beach or enjoy a picnic in the shaded areas provided.

Local Attractions

Barefoot Beach Condo Resort is not just a place to stay; it's a gateway to exploring the wonders of the Gulf Coast.

John's Pass Village: Just a short drive away, John's Pass is a lively waterfront village known for shopping, dining, and water activities.

Clearwater Beach: A neighboring beach town renowned for its white sands and vibrant nightlife, Clearwater Beach is a must-visit destination.

Busch Gardens Tampa Bay: Thrill-seekers can enjoy a day at this world-class theme park, located within an hour's drive from the resort.

Wildlife and Nature: The area offers opportunities for bird-watching and exploring the local wildlife, making it a paradise for nature enthusiasts.

Dining Options

For those who prefer dining out, Indian Shores and its neighboring towns offer a plethora of dining options. From seafood shacks serving fresh catches of the day to upscale restaurants with Gulf views, there's something to satisfy every palate.

Conclusion

Barefoot Beach Condo Resort in Indian Shores, Florida, is a perfect destination for vacationers looking for a beachfront escape. With its luxurious vacation rentals, stunning Gulf views, and a wide range of amenities and activities, this resort offers an unforgettable experience. Whether you're seeking relaxation, adventure, or a bit of both, this hidden gem on Florida's Gulf Coast is sure to leave you with cherished memories of your vacation. Come, slip off your shoes, and let the Barefoot Beach Condo Resort redefine your idea of a perfect coastal getaway.

#barefoot beach resort vacation rentals #Barefoot Beach Resort #Vacation Rentals #Indian Shores FL #vacation rental homes #barefoot beach house

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writingforstraykids · 2 months ago

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Letters Of Love - Chan🖤

Pairing: Chan x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 978

Summary: Your anniversary with your beloved boys makes you think of how to show them how much you love them best. Soon, you settle on sending them a message and picture in relation to one of your favorite days spent with them - starting with a sunset beach walk with Channie.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, poly!skz

A/N: Happy one year, guys🤭🥳🖤🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You sit comfortably on the oversized sofa in the living room, your legs tucked beneath you as a soft throw blanket drapes over your shoulders. The house is quiet except for the soft hum of the evening outside. The warm, ambient light from a lamp nearby casts a golden glow on your laptop screen as you scroll through your photo library, smiling at the memories that flash before your eyes.

The idea had come to you a few days ago, sparked by a simple desire to celebrate the bond you share with each of the boys. With your anniversary around the corner, you wanted to do something meaningful—not grand or flashy, but something that speaks to the heart of what they all mean to you. So, you decided to put together a collection of messages, each paired with a favorite photo of yours. One for each of them.

It’s not just about celebrating the years spent together, but a way to show them how much every single moment counts—how deeply woven into your life they’ve become. It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of life, schedules, and everything in between, but when you sit down and look back at these snapshots, the memories are filled with so much warmth that it almost makes you tear up.

Each picture carries its own story, a unique reminder of shared smiles, whispered conversations, and unexpected adventures. It feels like the perfect way to say, “I remember. I see you. And I treasure these moments more than words can say.”

Choosing where to start wasn’t easy, but in the end, you settled on Chan. Leader. Rock. One of your favorite people. The one who somehow always knows exactly how to make you feel heard and seen. Your eyes linger on one particular image that makes your heart flutter—a photograph of a breathtaking sunset on a secluded beach.

The sky is painted with vivid hues of orange, pink, and deep purple, casting a magical light across the gentle waves lapping at the shore. In the foreground, Chan is beside you, his broad smile lighting up the scene as much as the setting sun. He’s looking at the camera, but his body is slightly angled toward you, as if caught in a moment of joy, mid-laughter. His tousled hair frames his face, the salty breeze lifting it slightly, and his eyes crinkle warmly, filled with a playful energy and contentment. The two of you are barefoot, shoes forgotten somewhere in the sand, and you’re holding hands, your arm swinging lightly as if you’d just been spinning around together, giddy from the beauty of the evening and each other's presence.

You can almost hear the sound of his voice from that day—the way he kept pointing out how the colors of the sky matched your favorite shade of coral or how he’d sneakily race you to the water’s edge just to let the waves catch you by surprise. It was one of those spontaneous days, a perfect pocket of time when everything aligned, and all that mattered was the way the world seemed to slow down around the two of you.

The day had started unassumingly, with a casual suggestion from Chan to go for a drive after a long day of work. There had been no real destination in mind until you noticed the telltale sparkle of sunlight reflecting off the distant waves. Without a second thought, he turned the car toward the coast. When you arrived, the beach was nearly empty—just you, him, and the endless expanse of sand and sea. As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with the most brilliant shades, you both kicked off your shoes and wandered along the shoreline. You talked about everything and nothing—dreams, music, life, and silly inside jokes that had the two of you bursting into laughter.

As the colors deepened and the first stars peeked through, he pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just you, him, and the rhythm of the waves. It was then that he set up the camera timer, capturing that perfect image, your smiles forever frozen against the backdrop of the sun-kissed sky.

The smile on your lips softens as you relive the memory, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You take a deep breath and begin to type out a message for Chan, the words flowing easily from your heart. He’s someone who would understand the significance of this little project of yours—your way of saying, “I’m grateful. For you, for us, for all the tiny pieces that have come together to build this beautiful mosaic of memories.”

Message to Channie Baby🖤:

Hey Channie,

I came across this picture today, and it made me think of one of my favorite memories with you. Remember that sunset beach stroll? The way you just decided to take us there on a whim? I think that’s one of the things I love most about you—the way you turn ordinary moments into something unforgettable.

That evening, I remember feeling like everything was just… right. The world seemed quieter, softer, and it was like we had all the time in the world just to be ourselves. I know we’ve had so many amazing experiences together, but something about that day stands out to me. Maybe it’s because it felt so simple, just us, the ocean, and the sky. But it’s one of those moments that I’ll always cherish.

Thank you for always making life brighter, for your laughter and for the way you see beauty in everything. I’m so grateful to have you by my side—not just during sunsets, but every single day.

Happy anniversary, Channie. Here’s to many more sunsets together.

Love you, always.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@zehina @atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @theo4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @dis-trict9 @minh0scat @jinnie-ret @5starluvr @slutforchanlix

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indianshorescondorental · 1 year ago

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Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort: A Paradise for Relaxation

Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort

Introduction

Nestled along the picturesque Gulf Coast of Florida, the Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort stands as a true oasis of tranquility. With its pristine beaches, lush tropical landscapes, and a serene atmosphere, this beachfront haven has become a sought-after destination for travelers looking to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life. In this article, we will explore the allure of Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort, from its breathtaking natural beauty to the wide array of activities and amenities that make it a perfect retreat for those who seeking relaxation and renew.

A Natural Paradise

The Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort is renowned for its stunning natural beauty. The resort is situated along the white sands of the Gulf of Mexico, offering guests a front-row seat to the breathtaking sunsets that grace the horizon each evening. The gentle lapping of the waves and the soothing sound of seagulls create a sense of serenity that washes over visitors as soon as they arrive. The resort's beachfront location provides the ideal backdrop for a range of outdoor activities, from sunbathing and beachcombing to swimming and watersports.

Accommodations

One of the key features that set the Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort apart is its diverse range of accommodations. Whether you are a couple seeking a romantic getaway or a family in need of spacious lodgings, the resort offers a variety of options to suit your needs. The resort's charming one-bedroom suites, equipped with full kitchens and private balconies, provide the perfect home away from home. For larger groups, the two-bedroom villas are a fantastic choice, offering ample space and all the amenities needed for a comfortable stay. Each unit is beautifully appointed, and all accommodations are just a few steps from the beach, ensuring that you are always close to the shoreline and the sound of the waves.

Activities and Amenities

The Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort offers an array of activities and amenities designed to cater to all tastes and preferences. Whether you're an adventure enthusiast, a nature lover, or simply seeking relaxation, the resort has something to offer:

Beachfront Bliss: The resort's pristine beachfront is ideal for sunbathing, building sandcastles, and collecting seashells. For those looking to cool off, the calm Gulf waters beckon for swimming and paddleboarding.

Heated Pools: The resort features heated swimming pools, ensuring that guests can enjoy a refreshing dip regardless of the season.

Fishing: The Gulf of Mexico is known for its bountiful marine life. Fishing enthusiasts can cast their lines off the resort's fishing pier or charter a boat for a deep-sea fishing adventure.

Kayaking and Canoeing: Explore the serene waters and mangrove estuaries by renting kayaks and canoes, allowing for a closer connection with the area's natural beauty.

Dining: The resort is within close proximity to a wide range of restaurants offering diverse cuisines, so guests can savor delectable dishes without venturing too far.

Nature Trails: Nature enthusiasts will appreciate the opportunities to explore the nearby wildlife sanctuaries and nature trails, including the renowned Indian Rocks Beach Nature Preserve.

Sunsets and Stargazing: There's nothing quite like the magical sunsets over the Gulf Coast. Evening strolls along the beach or a cozy campfire offer the perfect settings for witnessing these spectacular moments. And as the sun sets, the resort's location away from city lights provides an excellent backdrop for stargazing.

Relaxation and Wellness

The Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort is more than just a place for outdoor adventures. It also offers guests opportunities for relaxation and wellness. The resort has a variety of spa services and massage options available for those who want to unwind and rejuvenate. Whether it's a soothing massage on the beach or a peaceful yoga session as the sun rises, the resort's atmosphere encourages a sense of tranquility and well-being.

Local Attractions

While the resort itself is a haven for relaxation and outdoor activities, the surrounding area also boasts a wealth of attractions. A short drive away, you can explore & enjoy:

Tampa Bay Area: Visit the nearby cities of Clearwater, St. Petersburg, and Tampa, each offering a wide range of cultural, dining, and entertainment options.

Museums and Art Galleries: The Salvador Dali Museum, the Chihuly Collection, and the Museum of Fine Arts in St. Petersburg are just a few of the cultural gems in the region.

Theme Parks: For families, the Tampa Bay area is home to attractions like Busch Gardens and Adventure Island Water Park.

Sports: If you're a sports enthusiast, you can catch a Tampa Bay Rays baseball game or a Tampa Bay Buccaneers football game, depending on the season.

Conclusion

The Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort is a hidden gem along the Gulf Coast of Florida. Its pristine natural beauty, comfortable accommodations, and diverse range of activities make it the perfect destination for those seeking relaxation and rejuvenation. Whether you're a beachcomber, nature lover, adventure seeker, or someone looking for a tranquil escape, this resort has something for everyone. So, why wait? Experience the serenity and beauty of Indian Shores Barefoot Beach Resort for yourself and create lasting memories on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico.

#travel #beach house indian shores florida #Indian Shores #Condo Rental #Vacation Rentals #beach house #indian shores florida #gulf of mexico #beach resort #barefoot beach resort

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raspberryslxt · 9 days ago

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UNEXPECTED TURNS - PART 1

OBX X TVD FANFICTION

jj maybank x gilbert!reader x rafe cameron

Y/n woke to the soft, steady crash of waves breaking in the distance, the ocean breeze carrying the faint cries of seagulls through the thin curtains of her guest room. For a moment, the tranquility made her forget where she was. Her surroundings—polished wooden floors, crisp white linens, and furniture that looked like it belonged in a coastal interior design catalog—were a stark contrast to the comforting chaos of Mystic Falls.

She sat up, glancing at the half-unpacked suitcase in the corner. The realization of her new reality hit her like a wave crashing against the shore. She was here in the Outer Banks, not for a vacation or a summer escape, but because life had crumbled beneath her feet. Her parents were gone. Elena and Jeremy were back home, dealing with their grief in their own ways, and she had run—ran to a place that held memories of simpler, happier times.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a message from Elena: How is it there?

Y/n stared at the message for a moment, unsure how to respond. The truth—that she felt adrift, out of place, and unsure if she’d made the right choice—felt too heavy to put into words. Instead, she typed back a simple Fine and put the phone back down.

A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts, and before she could answer, Sarah Cameron strode into the room, her energy radiating like the morning sun. She was dressed in a cropped tank top and cutoff shorts, her long blonde hair loosely braided over her shoulder.

“Good, you’re awake!” Sarah said, a mischievous grin lighting up her face.

“Barely,” y/n muttered, rubbing her eyes.

“Come on, sleepyhead. We’re going out. Topper and I are giving you the full OBX tour today. You’ve been back for twenty-four hours, and all you’ve done is mope around the house.”

Y/n groaned. “Do I have a choice in this?”

Sarah tilted her head, pretending to think. “Nope. Wear something cute but comfortable. And maybe sunglasses—you’ve got that whole ‘mourning my tragic past’ thing going on.”

“Wow, thanks for the pep talk,” y/n said dryly, throwing a pillow at her.

“You’re welcome!” Sarah said with a laugh, dodging the pillow and disappearing back into the hallway.

Fifteen minutes later, y/n found herself crammed into the back seat of Sarah’s Jeep with Topper Thornton riding shotgun. The Jeep bounced along the winding roads of the Outer Banks, the salt air whipping through the open windows. Sarah drove like she owned the place, one hand on the wheel while the other gestured wildly as she pointed out landmarks.

“This is the marina,” Sarah said as they drove past a stretch of shiny docks lined with boats. “Dad expanded it last year. It’s mostly for tourists, but some of the Kooks rent slips here too.”

Topper smirked. “Locals? You mean Kooks. You won’t catch any Pogues around here unless they’re trying to steal something.”

Y/n frowned, leaning forward. “Are we seriously still doing this Kooks-versus-Pogues thing? I thought that was just a dumb rivalry from when we were kids.”

“It’s worse now,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “It’s, like, a full-on war. But don’t worry—you’re with us, so you’re golden.”

Y/n wasn’t so sure she liked the idea of being lumped in with the Kooks, even if her family connections to the Camerons made it unavoidable. She remembered spending summers here as a kid, running around barefoot on the beach and climbing trees with Sarah, before the lines between Kooks and Pogues had mattered. Back then, the Outer Banks had felt magical. Now, it felt like a place where the air was thick with unspoken rules and expectations.

The Jeep rattled onto a dirt path leading to the beach, where Sarah parked haphazardly before hopping out. Topper followed, stretching his arms over his head, and y/n climbed out after them, shielding her eyes against the bright sunlight.

“This is the north side,” Sarah said, sweeping her arms out dramatically. “The best beaches, the best views, the best people.”

Topper snorted. “Basically, it’s where we are. Anywhere else? Pogue territory.”

Y/n ignored his comment, instead letting her gaze drift to the stretch of shoreline. The beach was beautiful, with golden sand that seemed to stretch on forever and turquoise waves crashing against the shore. She could see groups of people scattered across the sand��some sunbathing, some playing volleyball, and others gathered around coolers and umbrellas.

“This is where the bonfire will be tonight,” Sarah said, nudging y/n. “You have to come. It’s tradition.”

“Bonfire?” y/n asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Everyone goes,” Sarah said. “Well, everyone worth knowing.”

Topper smirked. “Translation: it’s a Kook thing. Don’t expect any Pogues to show up unless they’re looking for trouble.”

“Noted,” y/n said, feeling a twinge of unease at the casual way Topper dismissed the Pogues. She remembered them from her childhood—locals who lived on the island year-round, working hard and making do with what they had. Back then, the divide between Kooks and Pogues had felt stupid and arbitrary. Now, it seemed like it had calcified into something much worse.

By the time night fell, the beach was unrecognizable. The sky was painted in deep shades of orange and purple, the air alive with the scent of salt and smoke from the massive bonfire at the center of the gathering. Music blasted from portable speakers, and clusters of people stood around laughing, drinking, and dancing.

Y/n followed Sarah and Topper through the crowd, feeling a little like an outsider as they stopped every few feet to greet someone. Sarah was in her element, her golden hair glowing in the firelight as she waved and hugged friends.

“Stick with us,” Sarah said, glancing over her shoulder at y/n. “It’s a lot at first, but you’ll get the hang of it.”

Y/n nodded, though she wasn’t so sure. The energy around her was electric, but it was also overwhelming. She felt like she was watching from the outside, unable to find her footing in the chaos.

“Relax,” Sarah said, nudging her. “You look like you’re at a funeral.”

“Thanks,” y/n said dryly.

Before Sarah could say anything else, the sound of shouting cut through the music. Y/n turned toward the commotion and saw a group of boys shoving each other near the edge of the crowd.

“Pogues,” Sarah muttered under her breath.

Y/n frowned, stepping closer to get a better look. The boys were clearly outnumbered, but they didn’t seem fazed. One of them—a tall blond with a cigarette tucked behind his ear—was grinning like he found the whole thing amusing.

“Of course, it’s J.J. Maybank,” Sarah said, sighing. “That kid is nothing but trouble.”

Before y/n could respond, another voice cut through the chaos.

“Hey! Back off.”

A boy with shaggy brown hair and a bandana stepped forward, his tone calm but commanding. The tension in the air shifted, and after a few moments, the Kooks backed off, muttering insults under their breath as they walked away.

“Let’s go,” Sarah said, grabbing y/n’s arm.

But y/n couldn’t help stealing one last glance at the group of Pogues as they disappeared into the shadows. The blond caught her eye, his lopsided grin flashing in the firelight.

The next morning, y/n couldn’t stop thinking about the Pogues. There was something magnetic about them—something raw and unpolished that stood in stark contrast to the carefully curated world of the Kooks. Their confidence, their camaraderie, the way they seemed to care so little about fitting into the mold of the Outer Banks hierarchy—it intrigued her.

When Sarah suggested another beach day, y/n quickly agreed, hoping for an excuse to escape the polished monotony of the Cameron household and maybe—just maybe—run into the Pogues again.

After an hour of tanning and half-listening to Sarah gossip about Kook drama, y/n excused herself to take a walk down the shoreline. She strolled aimlessly, the ocean breeze cooling her sun-warmed skin, until she caught sight of a group gathered by a rickety boat on the far end of the beach.

At first, she thought it might just be another group of locals, but then she spotted the unmistakable blond from the bonfire. J.J. Maybank. His stance was casual, leaning against the side of the boat with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, while the others were unloading supplies and joking around.

Her heart raced as she approached, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was the subtle rebellion of walking away from Sarah’s world and into theirs.

“Hey,” she called out as she got closer, her voice tentative but steady.

The group turned to look at her, their chatter halting mid-sentence. For a moment, y/n felt like an intruder, but then J.J. smirked, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief.

“Well, well,” he drawled, pushing off the boat and sauntering toward her. “If it isn’t the Kook princess from last night.”

Y/n frowned, crossing her arms. “I’m not a princess.”

J.J. tilted his head, pretending to consider her words. “No? Sure about that? You’re dressed the part. What are those—designer flip-flops?”

“They’re normal flip-flops, you jerk,” y/n shot back, though her voice was more amused than offended.

Before J.J. could retort, another voice chimed in. “Leave her alone, J.J. You don’t have to scare off everyone we meet.”

A boy with shaggy brown hair and a bandana stepped forward, a friendly smile on his face. He extended a hand toward y/n. “I’m John B. Sorry about him—he was born this way.”

“Y/n,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” John B. said, his smile widening. “So, what brings you to this side of the island? Don’t Kooks usually stick to their yachts and country clubs?”

“Maybe I needed a change of scenery,” y/n said, glancing between them. “Besides, I grew up here—well, summers, at least. I’m not completely out of place.”

“Summers, huh?” another voice said. A tall, broad-shouldered boy with a serious expression looked up from the crate he’d been tying down. “That makes you Kook-adjacent at best.”

“Pope,” John B. said, rolling his eyes, “we don’t need to analyze her credentials.”

“I wasn’t analyzing,” Pope replied, shrugging. “Just making an observation.”

Y/n grinned. “Fair enough. And you are…?”

“Pope,” he said simply, giving her a nod.

“Don’t let him fool you,” a girl chimed in as she emerged from behind the boat, brushing sand off her hands. “He’s nicer than he looks. I’m Kiara, by the way.”

“Y/n,” she said again, instantly warming to the girl’s laid-back vibe.

“Wait, wait, wait,” J.J. interrupted, stepping into her line of sight and holding up his hands. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you’re a Kook—”

“Not a Kook,” y/n corrected.

“Whatever,” J.J. said with a wave of his hand. “You’re a Cameron?”

Y/n sighed. “Technically, I’m staying with the Camerons. My parents used to be friends with Ward. But that doesn’t mean I’m part of their world, okay?”

“Wow,” J.J. said, leaning closer with a mock-serious expression. “That almost sounded convincing.”

“J.J., give it a rest,” Kiara said, smacking him on the arm.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. Despite J.J.’s teasing, there was something endearing about his energy, the way he seemed to delight in stirring up trouble.

“So,” John B. said, cutting through the banter, “what do you think of the OBX so far? You’ve been back, what, a couple days?”

“It’s… different,” y/n admitted, choosing her words carefully. “It’s not like I remember it. Everything feels more divided. Like everyone’s stuck on which side of the island they belong to.”

“Welcome to the new normal,” Kiara said dryly. “Kooks versus Pogues. It’s like a soap opera that never ends.”

“Except way more fun,” J.J. added, tossing a small fishing net into the boat. “If you’re on the Pogue side, that is. Kooks don’t know how to have a good time.”

“Right,” Pope said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Because you’re the poster child for wholesome fun, J.J.”

The group laughed, and y/n found herself smiling along with them. Their dynamic was infectious—lighthearted but grounded in an unspoken bond that she could already sense.

“So, what’s the deal with the boat?” y/n asked, gesturing toward the worn but sturdy-looking vessel.

“This beauty?” John B. said, patting the side of the boat affectionately. “This is the HMS Pogue. She’s our ticket to freedom—and occasionally trouble.”

“And sometimes sinking,” Pope added.

“Only once,” John B. said defensively.

“And we fixed her,” Kiara added, shooting a glare at Pope.

“Barely,” Pope muttered, earning another round of laughs.

Y/n felt herself relaxing more with each passing minute. She wasn’t sure how it had happened so quickly, but something about the Pogues felt easy—natural. They didn’t seem to care where she came from or what she’d been through; they just welcomed her into their orbit like she’d always belonged.

“So, y/n,” J.J. said, his voice drawing her attention back to him. He was leaning against the boat again, his blue eyes gleaming with curiosity. “If you’re not a Kook, and you’re not exactly a Pogue, what does that make you?”

Y/n thought for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I guess I’m just… me.”

J.J. grinned, pushing himself upright. “Fair enough. But if you’re gonna hang with us, you better be ready for some adventures. We don’t do boring.”

“Good thing I’m not looking for boring,” y/n replied, her tone playful.

J.J. raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “I like her already.”

“She’s definitely got potential,” Kiara agreed.

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” y/n said, crossing her arms.

John B. clapped her on the shoulder. “You’re officially a provisional Pogue. Congratulations.”

“Provisional?” y/n asked, laughing.

“Don’t worry,” Pope said with a smirk. “The bar’s pretty low.”

As the group dissolved into laughter again, y/n realized that for the first time since arriving in the Outer Banks, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be. The Pogues were chaotic, irreverent, and maybe a little reckless, but they were also real in a way that no one else on the island seemed to be.

And something told her that this was only the beginning.

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strawberryblue-blog · 10 months ago

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Sea of love —Fermin Lopez.

summary: After being in love with Fermin for many years being Gavi's sister, he finally confesses and the sea is a witness of your love.

warnings: none. (mention of alcohol, discomfort, bad language)

word count: +4k.

#SEXYNOTE: I'm sorry for the delay :( I was taking exams. How is everything going? Kisses, love you <3

Laughter erupted in the living room when you saw your brother do something stupid. Everyone knew that Gavi was the life of the night and that his 'guess what' attempts were not something he did very well, even more so when he was drunk but he still ended up being the funniest thing in the world. Unfortunately your mood wasn't the best these days and you were just drowning your sorrows in alcohol.

Trying to forget.

Bottles of beer lay on the floor, on the living room table, sofa and even on the kitchen counter. Summer vacation was something you really loved when it came to coming to your house by the sea, where everything was surrounded by trees, beaches and flowers, a swimming pool with beautiful views and a summer barbecue.

Your parents and sister had gone on a trip and your brother had thought of coming with his friends and inviting your girlfriends for a great vacation. Something you couldn't say no to, as you had been looking forward to it for a long time but weren't excited enough to really enjoy it.

You loved this place but you hated being here right now.

Laughter and screams could be heard all around you, but you weren't really listening to them, not when your eyes were anchored on the boy sitting a few feet in front of you, as if he was the only person in the world. Trying to get his gaze back or at least a little bit of interest from him.

You felt empty, forgotten, ignored and trampled on. You couldn't take it anymore.

"Let's dance" your friend tried to take your hands, but you refused. "Don't be an old lady!" she shrieked snorting.

You smiled a little trying to hide your pain. Your spirits weren't very high today, nor were they a few weeks ago, not after he rejected you like that. You just wanted to drink until you passed out drunk and forget everything.

Falling in love with one of your brother's best friends was a myth for some but a reality for you. A reality that hurt.

Fermin Lopez was the typical young prodigal and kind, who has all the girls at his feet and with that angel face and smile that bewitches, you could not blame them. You had also fallen into his net.

But he would never touch you, his words, not yours.

"Did you come to cry for a man or to fuck three others instead?" your flirtatious friend whispered and pointed to the other members of the group, Ferran, Joao and Pedri.

Your gaze wandered to three drunken boys laughing and joking with each other, playing with your brother and your other friends. You laughed in denial they were just like that, a couple of idiots.

"I'll pass" you whispered. She nodded and kissed your forehead tenderly.

"Well if you don't, i do" she joked with an amused grimace. You laughed before finishing your bottle of beer and watching her walk off after the partying soccer players.

You got up from your spot and walked barefoot around the dining room to your slippers, quickly putting them on. You needed air or to get out of this place before you exploded.

Unseen, you opened the back patio door and stepped out hugging yourself as the evening breeze hit you. It was a pleasant night, the stars were shining brightly overhead, the moon was lighting up the sand on the beach, the tree branches were barely moving.

You sighed a breath of air and took it all in hard. You had been putting up with it all, the journey here, days eating at his side, nights criss-crossing him in the bathroom, evenings and mornings enjoying your own home. It was hell.

You were rethinking to yourself if it had been a good idea to come or if it would have been better to stay in Barcelona, in your small apartment with your studies and your strong emotions. You walked without fear, down from your house until you reached the beach, feeling the waves lapping on the shore. The lighting was dim but at least you could see perfectly where you were stepping and even the moon helped with that. You sat on the sand feeling it grainy under your body, sniffling dejectedly.

It had been at least a couple of years since you had felt this. The feeling of having everything but at the same time nothing, that everything was out of your reach and there was no escape. A tear fell down your cheek and you blamed it on the alcohol that had undoubtedly taken its toll on your body.

You closed your eyes smelling the warm scent of the summer night enjoying the feeling of your limbs burying in the sand when you took off your shoes and the salty of your tears sticking to your face when they came out uncontrollably. Feeling the sensation of being alone in front of the sea with only your feelings drowning you and your bad decisions.

You didn't want to go back to that living room knowing that Fermin was there. You had been on good terms but it was clear that you didn't want to be just his friend and he ignored you completely, except that he felt obligated to greet you when you met in the mornings or ask you for something because he was at your house when Gavi was busy.

After a while behind your back, you heard someone walking by but you ignored them. It was probably one of your friends, your brother or the boys seeing you leave.

Your body was surrounded by a thin layer of clothing, over your summer bikini, giving you validity when the breezes blew your hair. You touched the jacket on your shoulders and its scent came straight to your nostrils, making you bristle.

Damn it.

"What are you doing here?" you heard his voice above your peace.

Your body froze.

You hadn't expected him to come at all, he hadn't even seen you leave, in fact he had never seen you. What was he doing here? Why did he come? To keep hurting you? How dare he? First he ignored you worldwide as if you didn't exist for him and now he appeared out of nowhere with some concern?

"Y/n..." he called out to you when he heard silence. "It's late, it's not safe for you to be alone here, come in the house" he asked from behind.

You raised an incredulous eyebrow.

A hand from his hands touched gently, calling out to you. A shiver ran down your back but you removed your shoulder as if you were a capricious child. Fermin removed his hand quickly at your discomfort.

"I like being alone" came out of your mouth with some wariness.

"I know" he affirmed. Again there was silence but this time, Fermin moved and sat a little away from you. He was respecting your space, you had always liked that about him. He was cautious and kind.

"I like you too" you kept saying. Again you were sure it was the alcohol talking but it was so true.

Fermin sighed. "We talked about... this."

You clicked your tongue. A wry chuckle escaped your lips at the memory.

"Yeah, i know. I'm not your type and you only see me as a friend" you blanched your eyes sighing.

Suddenly, again tears invaded your eyes. But you weren't going to cry, not in front of Fermin.

"It's not that Y/n, you're confused and don't know what you want" he reasoned lifting his shoulders.

"What do you know what i feel?" you snatched raising your voice. "What the fuck do you know what i want!?" you shouted.

The situation was starting to make you desperate and to see him there, so calm with his soft voice and confident feelings. He clearly didn't want you.

"Gavi would never agree to this, it's not right. He's my best friend" he kept excusing himself.

Rage started to build up in your body every time a word came out of his mouth. Why the fuck did he keep making stupid excuses? First you weren't his type, then your brother and now what?

You loved Fermin. Since you were eleven you were in love with him but he never looked at you with different eyes. Was it so hard for him to tell you? Was he such a coward?

"Go away" you asked hugging yourself in the cool night. "Forget everything and fuck off" you spat.

The urge to scream got stuck in your throat when he looked ahead and sighed without saying anything. You were letting him go, why the fuck wouldn't he leave. He didn't want you to come closer, he had asked you explicitly, but why did he come here? He wasn't looking for explanations or he wasn't going to give them either, why had he come in the first place?

He had broken your heart into a thousand pieces from day one. You knew he went out with other girls and that didn't bother you but sometimes it was unbearable, it hurt. Even so, you always kept choosing to love him because the heart doesn't decide who to fall in love with. It just happened.

He had been Gavi's friend since you were little and with that, you also knew him. You had no memories where Fermin was not present as you became a teenager. He was the person who protected you and took care of you, the one who beat up idiots when they tried to get with you, the one who took you home when you were drunk, the one who covered for you when you went out with friends, the one who defended you from Aurora and Pablo when they played with you.

How could you not fall in love? If he was always sweet to you, always watching you with that smile on his face, always worried about you. Fermin wasn't just your brother's best friend, he was like your brother. But you hated that part. Because that was the answer to everything, you were just that to Fermin Lopez.

He knew everything about you and that was your weakest point. He knew how you felt, he knew you liked him and he knew how you were suffering. And that you were a disaster.

You got up from the ground and started walking to the sea. You wanted to get away from him as soon as possible, besides it was all he wanted but he was still there. Sitting silently with his head hidden between his knees like a coward.

Fuck it. Your feet came in contact with the water and you shivered as you felt it was freezing but you weren't going to stop. You were going in deeper and deeper as tears slipped down your cheeks, love was cruel and it hurt to be in love. Why couldn't it be reciprocated, why did it have to end like this?

I guess this was the end. Your end. Not the end you wanted but the only one fate had for you.

Shit fate.

You took a last breath before sinking into the freezing cold water shivering but when you submerged everything disappeared. Your clothes got wet and your hair floated but you didn't care that you were shivering underwater, you didn't hear anything anymore, you were just there. Sinking under your feelings with your broken heart.

The water surrounded your body and tried to push you up but you held steady under it, feeling the silence and darkness beneath you.

At least when you came out Fermin wouldn't be there. Or so you hoped because it would be really embarrassing for him to see you a mess. The mess he had made. He didn't care and it was okay, it was already a hopeless case. You were going to get over it.

Maybe Fermin was right and your feelings were confused or maybe you were infatuated and it would all pass. At least you were praying that when you surfaced it had all been a dream.

When your lungs began to feel the lack of air, you stayed in the water. You weren't going to do anything crazy but you needed a little adrenaline to take your mind off it. Your limbs were cold and the tears had stopped flowing and had mixed with the deep sea water.

Arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, pushing you out as your lungs took in air again in desperate gasps.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n!" he yelled trying to help you float, his hands holding your waist tightly as you continued to gasp for air.

Your vision was a little blurry, because of the darkness and the drunken state but your body recognized that touch. His soft fingers pressed against your skin and you trembled.

"It's fucking freezing!" he shrieked again at your silence. "Are you crazy?" he continued. "What would have happened if i left?"

"Nothing, stop acting like you really cared" you replied dryly trying to pull away. You wanted to swim away from him, back to shore and go far away but his arms stopped you.

"I fucking care about you, Y/n!" mentioned harsh. You moved your shoulders catching your breath but when he said your name you were out of breath again.

"Tell me what you want" he said angrily. It was one of the few times you had seen him like that, his eyebrows were furrowed, he was worried but you could tell his neck stood out and he was red, he was definitely angry.

"I told you to leave me" you said again gritting your teeth from the cold.

"I'm not doing it!" he replied but you denied and turned to resolutely get out of the water.

You heard it hit against the water but you tried again to get out, it held you again stopping you. The breeze hit your body and your skin bristled under the water.

"Tell me what the fuck you want!" he shouted at the top of his lungs and you looked up at him until you faced him.

"You, Fermin!" you shouted just as loudly. "I want you" your voice was choppy but you still screamed euphoric.

You weren't afraid to scream. You knew what you wanted and compared to him you weren't going to be quiet no matter if your brother or anyone else could hear you. Even though you were literally inside the sea, there was no one else around but the two of you and your friends were too busy partying to notice what was going on outside.

Your chest was rising and falling and despite feeling your heart almost explode, you dealt with it. Fermin was speechless and then you sighed in denial. Was that what he wanted? To humiliate you again? He had. It wasn't the first time you had told him how you felt but here you were still, feeling your heart break with every feeling.

"You don't understand" he murmured slowly. He was already calm and you were still on fire.

"What, Fermin?" you replied exhausted from the situation.

"I can't choose between you and your brother" he whispered and your heart jumped. "It's not fair" he said taking a step forward.

Why would he have to choose you? You weren't asking him to choose you, you were asking him to love you. This wasn't about Gavi but in some part you understood. And that terrified you too. But it wasn't a valid excuse when it came to love, it didn't matter at all when it was true. You understood perfectly well that sometimes love was unrequited but he always came close and made you feel special, as if he knew exactly what you felt having him around. As if he felt the same but ended up walking away or excusing himself.

"I can't put you in that situation, i can't put Pablo in that situation either" he kept saying. "You don't understand, you're beautiful and i really like you but it's not the right thing to do."

You nodded slowly. Your belly churned and your eyes threatened to tear up but you stopped them. You really had a hard time deciphering if his words were true or if he was trying to comfort you and excuse himself, either way it didn't make sense anymore.

"You are the most beautiful girl i have ever met, you are funny and caring, you loved your friends and family, you always take care of everyone and expect nothing in return" his hands cupped your cheeks and lifted your dull face. The waves gently lapped your bodies and the sound was music behind his words.

Your eyes were watery and your heart pounded, their cold bodies surrounded by water and their fingers were icy but nothing mattered. His touch burned your skin and you felt the closeness of their body, making you sway.

"You drive me crazy" he whispered. "You know what it's like to see you every day? With that beautiful smile but then when you see me it disappears, to see you sad and not being able to hug you, i can't touch you, i can't tell you how i feel about you" he confessed so close to you and your face cradled in his hands.

Were you still in a dream? was it true? or was it a lie? you no longer knew if this was true or if your unconscious was creating a parallel reality to your pain. Although his skin over yours indicated to you that this was really happening, you had never felt it so close, so true, so real before.

"Why?" you asked defeated. "Why don't you?" you pleaded.

Fermin caressed your face, shaking his head, his eyes lowered to your lips and looked at you hungrily, desperately.

"I can't" he barely said.

He wanted to kiss you. Those words were an attempt to converse to himself, Fermin wanted to kiss you. His voice trembled and he refused holding back.

"I can't" he repeated and you didn't let him think about it.

You were probably going to regret this but you couldn't help yourself and kissed him. You took his face and pressed your lips against Fermin's, taking him by surprise. But as if it was an instinct, he reciprocated a few seconds later.

The feeling of happiness invaded your stomach and you felt how the whole world revolved around you. It wasn't the first time you kissed a boy but it was definitely the first time you felt something like this. A shiver ran from the tips of your toes to your last hair and made you bristle. Fermin's hands took your waist delicately groping the area before placing them there.

The kiss was delicate, awkward and tender. As if it was a first time. Because it really had been, it was the first time you kissed Fermin and you knew it was going to stay engraved in your heart. The waves moved your bodies but Fermin's hands held you tight and made you feel safe.

"You have no idea what you just did" he whispered as your foreheads pressed together.

"I didn't do anything" you jokingly defended yourself.

"You do everything" he said again and cupped your face in his hands.

His eyes shone like headlights and you wondered was that if how the stars above you looked. The touch of his skin against yours was familiar, Fermin always touched you but this time it felt different.

Again his lips sought contact with yours but you stopped him, pulling away a little to make space between you. It was obvious you wanted to kiss him but you were afraid that after he kissed you, Fermin would run.

"You said we couldn't" you murmured biting your lip.

Nerves were itching in your belly and you were desperate to feel his lips but you couldn't let him hurt you again.

"You kissed me first" he replied whimpering. You smiled in denial.

"Because i know what i want!" you squealed determined. You had always known and not because you wanted to meant he could use you.

Fermin sighed releasing your cheeks. The chill ran through your body again as he moved a little further away, pulling away from you.

"Pablo is my best friend" he said scratching the back of his neck.

"So what?" you snatched, you were going to get it all out today.

It was all or nothing.

"Don't do this to me, y/n" he pleaded worriedly.

You weren't doing anything. Nothing he didn't want, was he going to blame you? Couldn't he set the record straight? For not wanting to admit how he felt?

Pablo was not an obstacle, you knew that if this was real he would support them. Of course it would cost him, first he would get angry and act offended, then he would too but in the end he would accept his. And if he didn't he'd be damned, it was your damned life and Fermin's.

"Aren't you afraid?" he asked taking a step closer. You lifted your shoulders.

Of course love was scary. Everyone painted it as something beautiful but after being ignored several times by Fermin you were beginning to believe that love was just part of Disney stories.

"It's okay if you want to let me go but you have to at least try first" you complained disappointed.

"I don't want to hurt you" he mentioned and his arms grabbed your forearms again. You wanted to pull away but Fermin took you in his arms and wrapped his arms around you against his body. Again you felt his overwhelming warmth and the cold disappeared, at times you felt on top and at others underneath.

"You already do..." you whispered so slowly that the words vanished on the breeze.

"I'm sorry, Y/n" he apologized squeezing you. "I love you and I don't want to lose this thing we have" he said in one ear.

"We won't lose it if you really want me" you admitted.

"I really want you" His eyes spoke before yours.

Your heart was pounding a mile a minute. You were agitated and excited at the same time, you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to touch him, you wanted Fermin to hold you and not let go. Your fingers caressed his locks of hair and his hands took your waist, rising up to surround it and stay on top of him.

"Let's not tell Pablo yet" he whispered kissing your forehead softly.

His words made you raise your head until you could see his face. Had he really said that?

"Tell him what, Fermin?" you asked pretending not to notice.

"About us" he murmured clear and precise.

Every atom in your body began to jump with happiness. A smile was marked on your lips and quickly spread it towards the boy.

About us. It sounded unreal coming out of his mouth. You had always had feelings for each other but only you would admit them. Now he was the one saying it and you began to wonder if that's what love felt like.

Fermin grabbed you by the face again.

"I've been in love with you for as long as i've known you, i don't understand how i could endure these years, i don't understand how i could push you away like this" he whispered caressing you.

Your eyes watered. The night was perfect. You surrounded by darkness, under the starlight with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the water surrounding your bodies, it felt like a real dream you had ever had.

Only this time it wasn't.

You were here, in the sea, your favorite place, with your favorite person.

"I really love you, Y/n" he said firmly.

He couldn't hold it in any longer and brought their lips together again.

#football imagines #football one shot #imagine #fc barcelona #fermin lopez #fermin lopez x reader #fermin lopez x you #pablo gavi #strawberryblue blog

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